Divided We Fall
by fc2001
Summary: It's difficult to summarise - but it's a big disaster story set in the ER. Please r/r, it's the first time I've attempted something this big...
1. Introduction

This fic is going to need a little explanation. It's the product of a too vivid imagination and I will apologise in advance if it hits too close to home for anybody. It isn't connected to real events, and no connection is ever inferred. I wanted to write something with a little more drama in it than I usually do - so this is what I came up with. It promises to be as dark as hell later on - just as a warning! It's A/U to a point, thought some points relate to early season 8. I hope it'll make more sense as it unravels - this is just to serve as an intro.  
Disclaimer: All I own of this story are the words on the page and the idea in my head. The characters (and places) are not and never will be mine. I make no monetary profit from the writing of this fanfic.  
  
Divided We Fall  
By Fiona C Wark  
  
There just doesn't seem to be a point. No point in getting up, no point in switching on the light. I could stay in bed all day, and I probably will. I'm not eating, I know I'll get ill, but what does it matter? What does anything matter anymore? Life is utterly pointless without them. Life isn't life without them. Why was death so selective? Why them and not me? I curse my survival instinct now, it's the reason I'm in this pain. And long after the physical scars have healed, I'll still be in pain. That's what makes me feel worse. I feel sorry they died but living on is so much harder. So much harder. I used to think survivors were lucky, now I know otherwise. Surviving really is the toughest thing to do  
****  
Lucky, I've been told over and over I am. I don't feel very lucky. I'm useless, pointless and hopeless. I look down on my bandages. I'm scarred too. Scarred and hopeless. The prospect of hundreds of skin grafts is torture, the prospect of never working again terrifying but the worst thing of all is preparing myself for a life without them. That's going to be hell. I gave my all to try and save them, I couldn't have given them more, there was nothing more I could have done, but still I've lost it all or so it seems. Life is never simple the way it should be, is it?   
****  
It's bad enough that what happened happened but that fact it's taken away so much from so many people makes it all the worse. Logically, I've been lucky. I'm still here. But that's so screwed up. I'm not the lucky one. The lucky ones are the ones who don't have to face up to the aftermath, who don't have to carry on living. Finding the strength to pick yourself up again, that's the hardest thing for any survivor to do. But what other choice do we have?  
****  
My actions weren't heroic. I'm not a hero. I don't deserve to be looked up to. I did what comes naturally to me, nothing more and nothing less. I hate myself for it now. It sounds terrible - I saved lives after all. It grows a little more distant every day, the scale of what happened begins to fade. I'll have to live with it, and myself, for ever. There's nothing in any training that can possibly prepare you to face something like this.   
****  
Sometimes I think if I pinch myself I'll wake up and this has all been some terrible nightmare. But it hasn't. This is reality. This pain I live with, seared into my heart indelibly, nothing can take it away. I can't wake up from this, I've just got to find it in me to find a way out. It gets harder by the day rather than easier. Time has never passed more slowly in my life, when all I want is to fast-forward to better times, a time when technicolour returns to my life, a time when I don't feel hopelessly stuck on pause. My whole life is on pause. Everyones is. Irrevocably and drastically changed, nothing will ever be the same again. But I'm surviving. There's really no other way. Day by day, 24 hours at a time, never looking ahead and trying not to look back either.   
  
On February 14th 2002, Valentines Day of all ironies, and a year to the day since Lucy died, something happened in County ER which changed their lives forever. This is the story of that day, it's events and it's consequences, through the eyes of the survivors. 


	2. The Day I Lost It All

Chapter One: "The Day I Lost It All"  
Abby Lockhart  
  
It hadn't been my year. No year in my life was ever my year - but things had gotten  
decidedly worse in the year since Lucy died. Addiction, obsession, destructive  
relationships and Mom's traumatic return had all served to combine very  
potently. It came to the point I thought I was losing my mind. Little did I know then that it  
was about to get worse.   
  
County General Hospital: 14/2/02, 9:55am   
  
I'd been on since 6 am and was exhausted already. At least I knew why now. I rubbed my eyes and reached towards the coffee pot with one hand. I needed this break, more than anyone else knew. It hadn't been a particularily remarkable morning so far, except that it was a year ago today Lucy died. I'm sure that was a fact we were all better off trying to forget. Another year gone around and still life wasn't any easier.   
"Hey,"  
My mind was elsewhere, namely on the test results I'd just recieved. Things had just gone horribly, horribly wrong. This shouldn't happen to me now. I wasn't aware of the other person until they spoke.  
"Hi,"  
I tried to sound dismissive, but it was difficult. Truth was I did want to tell someone, talk to someone. If I couldn't tell him, who could I tell? Carter was the best friend I'd had in a long time.  
"You alright?"  
I could hear the concern but couldn't quite form the words to explain my distraction. This shouldn't happen to me and especially not now. Was it that obvious something was wrong? He could read me like a book. I should really have worked on hiding things better.   
"Not really,"  
"Care to share?"  
He sat at the table behind me. I felt the piece of paper in my pocket, burning away at me guiltily. Nervously, I unfolded it and laid it on the table in front of him.  
"Oh,"  
He sounded disappointed in me.  
"I know, I know,"  
I could hear the lecture forming in his throat. I finished making my coffee and turned to look at him.  
"When did you..? I mean..."  
He never finished his sentence. I never found out what it was he was asking me. I never did hear what he thought. I was thrown to the floor by a small explosion. My hands went instinctively over my ears and moments later, when the movement subsided, I removed them and turned back to Carter. He wasn't there. I only discovered later where he'd gone. Foolish boy! I rose and looked out onto the ER. Fear shot through my heart and diffused slowly into every cell when I realised what had happened, suddenly everything felt very cold. Dust filled the corridors and clogged my nostrils and throat in seconds. Panicked, I crawled along the tiled floor to try and inspect the damage. Breathing was impossible, every limb felt like a lead weight and tears streamed from my irritated eyes. I couldn't see a thing. Evacuation procedures should be underway by now, shouldn't they? I was torn. Save myself or save the patients. I crawled back, saw the walking wounded breaking windows to escape. All this could have taken mere minutes, seconds even, because a second, larger explosion rocked the hospital again. I curled up instinctively, feeling debris rain down on me, glass, dust, plaster. I prayed I wouldn't get buried. Everyone else would be outside by now. They wouldn't be stupid enough to stay inside. They'd had time. They had to have had time. They had to be living. Realistically, in my heart, I knew they were dead or injured, but I willed them to be conscious or alive nonetheless. Once the initial debris fall was over, I recovered myself enough to call out.   
"Anyone else there?"  
I coughed desperately at the effort and listened intently in the silence that followed. The calls that came were weak, interrupted intermittently by coughing fits, but they were nearby.   
"Help, help me,"  
I twisted round and lay down. Within 2 feet of me, there was someone. I peered into the shadows. I fought back tears when I saw who it was.   
"It's O.K. It's O.K. It's Abby. I'm here,"  
My tones were as soothing as my panicked heart could manage. Reassurance wasn't going to work, I wasn't even convincing myself.  
"Abby..."  
My name came to his throat with some difficulty. My ex-lover pinned to the floor, I could see, by a broken ceiling timber. The wood entered his abdomen just below his ribcage, sloping slightly downwards. Dust continued to fall. I looked up at the walls and ceiling. They could come down at any time. But I couldn't leave him could I? I tried to wriggle closer, but felt pain sear through my left leg. I looked down and saw I was pinned, just below the knee.  
"Dammit,"  
I cursed quietly.  
"How bad is it?"  
He choked out, having seen me looking at the wound. It would have been difficult to cover up my shock.  
"Oh, I've seen worse,"  
I tried to sound light and a small smile crossed his face.  
"You can't feel it can you?"  
He shook his head sadly. I didn't need to tell him what that meant. I've never felt more helpless in my life than at that moment. Everything he needed to possibly live lay not feet from where we were, but were completely out of reach to me.   
"What's going on?"  
"I think it was a bomb,"  
I answered truthfully. I listened for fire, for the cries of anyone else. Nothing. But the fire was there. And so were the others. Probably dead. I tried not to dwell on that thought, but it was hard. It was hard to keep the pain at bay, to keep the desperation inside. I bit my  
tongue, to bring reality back, and took a long, deep breath. I could subconsciously feel my lungs filling up with debris but tried to ignore it. This is no time to lose it, Abby, you're stronger than this, I told myself bitterly over and over.  
"Stay with me, Abby,"  
His accented voice implored me. I looked down into pained and weary eyes and answered him with my silence. I was carrying his child. How could I leave? My hand sought his through the masonry and I knotted my fingers in his. They were cold and lifeless but it was more for me than for him. I lost track of time sitting there with him, praying he'd stay  
awake, knowing he had a chance as long as he was conscious. I was relieved when I heard the emergency services arrive. I was saved. It was far from over, but help was here. I was confused when they didn't enter the building immediately, and got increasingly frustrated  
as I felt him slipping further away from me. We had reason to live, it wasn't just my life on the line here, but this baby too. I decided to tell him. I might not get another chance.   
"I've got something I've got to tell you...."  
I paused nervously, then swallowed hard and continued.   
"I don't know if you can hear me. I'm pregnant, 9 weeks,"  
"Mine?"  
Came the whisper after the moment I imagined it took him to absorb the news. Not the best time to tell him, but if not now then when? I bit back angry words and mock-scolded instead, squeezing his hand lightly.  
"Course yours, idiot!"  
"I'm sorry, Abby,"  
Don't die on me, damn you, don't leave me with your child, I thought angrily, willing him to live. If I'm getting out of here, and I am believe me, I'm taking you with me, damn you, my thoughts raged desperately on in the pause that followed his apology.  
"For leaving you alone with my child.."  
He finished, gasping a little. Don't give up on life, not just yet, hold on, please, hold on for me.  
"Don't say that. You're going nowhere. You'll die an old man, happy and safe, not here, not now,"  
The passion in my voice was unmistakable. I wouldn't be a single mother. Especially not in these circumstances. I wasn't giving up, not yet. The emergency services still weren't coming in. I wondered why. Every second lessened his chance of making it.   
"Anyone alive in here?"  
I blinked in the glare of the flashlight and waved for all I was worth. The fire-fighter saw me and nodded. I have never been more pleased to see anyone in my whole life.   
"Helps here,"  
The nod was weaker. He was ghostly white. The wound was losing blood by the second that I couldn't help him replace. It was a funny feeling, knowing how to help but being so helpless to do anything. The pain he was in put the knawing pain in my leg to shame.  
"Don't die on me O.K?"  
I wanted to shake him. The fire-fighters were inside the building when the third explosion hit. Maybe it was a collapsing wall, but it shook the whole building and masonry fell again.   
"Can I move this?"  
The rescue worker asked, gesturing to the concrete across my leg. I nodded, knowing it was the only way to get out. The concrete fell away with a thwack and I gritted my teeth against the pain. The fire-fighter reached out a hand to me but I shook my head. Stones pelted off my weakened body as I leaned over Luka protectively.  
"Abby. Don't die for me,"  
He whispered weakly but heroically. I couldn't let him die too.  
"You're going to live,"  
I was trying not to cry, fighting back nausea. This wasn't real. It wasn't. It was a defiant statement, but increasingly hopeless.  
"No, Abby, I'm not. Save yourself, please,"  
"I can't leave you,"  
"I don't want to leave you either, but go, please,"  
The choked whisper was desperate. Instantly my decision, however much I'd go onto regret it, was made. I turned my face to his and kissed his cheek lightly. It was ice cold, I don't doubt I'll remember that touch forever.  
"I love you,"  
It was almost imperceptible. When I looked again, he'd closed his eyes. I reached out to the fire-fighter who scooped my into his arms and carried me free of the collapsing hospital. The last thing I saw of it was it sink into the ground. I buried my face in my rescuers shoulder and cried helplessly.  
  
Northwestern Emergency Room, 14/2/02 14:12  
  
I awoke later in a quiet room in Northwesterns ER. My first reaction was to think thank God it was all a dream, I've just fainted or something. I thought it was my ER. The door opened and an unfamiliar resident entered and only then did it hit me that maybe it was for real.  
"Miss Lockhart,"  
He sounded very solemn. I narrowed my eyes suspiciously. My leg was in a cast and it felt very heavy compared to the rest of my body.   
"You might feel a little groggy. We had to sedate you,"  
He approached the bed slowly. What wasn't he saying? I could see there was something in his eyes, pity perhaps or sympathy. Whatever it was couldn't he just say and stop hesitating.  
"The leg isn't badly broken but you'll have to stay off it for a while."  
"And?"  
I said bitterly, interrupting him.  
"There's something we should tell you,"  
"Yes,"  
"The man you were with when you were found. They didn't get him out in time. I've very sorry,"  
It wasn't a surprise but grief still hit like a speeding bullet, shattering into my heart. Who else had I lost? How much of my life had been destroyed today? I needed to know.  
"Who else...? Is there anyone else alive?"  
I managed to gasp out over tears.   
"Yes. 4 besides you so far,"  
There was some relief in that statement, but not enough.   
"Who?"  
I asked. I didn't want to hear this. All my suspicions were about to be confirmed and I wasn't sure I was altogether ready for it. The doctor glanced down at the chart in his hand briefly.  
"I'm afraid I don't have names. You should rest,"  
Tell me he's alive. Just tell me Carter lived, that's all I want to hear. I don't need to be treated like a child. Tell me, I demanded silently, tell me either way.   
"Are they still looking?"  
The resident nodded. It was at least 3 hours since the collapse. I knew the chances of them finding anyone under there alive was fading by the second. Nothing can take away your hope in that situation though, nothing can stop you from wanting a miracle, from needing the impossible.   
  
Time passed interminably slowly for me those hours. Sitting there, helplessly waiting for the confirmation of my nightmares. Unable to move, unable to speak, practically unable to breathe. The weight of knowing there was absoutely nothing you could do but wait was crushing. News filtered in slowly from the site. I saw body bags pushed past my window on their way to the morgue and I longed to know if one of them was my best friend. The pain of not knowing was too much. I didn't care how much losing him would hurt, this was far worse. Part of me already knew I'd lost him, a nagging voice in my head told me they wouldn't get anyone else out of that alive now.   
  
In those hours, my mind was on myself and not on my baby. I could feel it had survived. Something in me drove me to believe life couldn't be that cruel. However hard it was going to be, I knew in those hours I'd keep it. It wasn't a conscious decision as such, just something I knew. I left its father to die, I couldn't let it go too.  
  
I tried not to blame myself for what happened to Luka, but I kept coming back to the fact I left him. If I hadn't, we'd all be dead. None of this was my fault. Logically, I knew that, but blames easier to place on yourself than elsewhere. I used to complain I barely had time  
to breathe, let alone think. Now I've thought enough for a lifetime. All the same grim, painful thoughts. Eventually, at 16:30, the news came I'd been dreading. Confirmation of all my nightmares. They'd pulled two bodies from the wreckage together - Cleo's and Carter's. And right there and then, my world caved in on me. 


	3. Shadow Of My Former Self

Chapter Two "Shadow Of My Former Self"  
Abby Lockhart  
  
This cannot be my life, this cannot be what I was destined to be doing at this point in my  
life. Wracked with nausea, tormented by nightmares, this isn't where I'm supposed to be,  
isn't who I'm supposed to be. I pull myself up onto my awkward crutches, cursing my  
injured leg. Stomach churning as it does every morning, I hobble towards the bathroom.   
  
I'm three months pregnant. Give or take. I'm crippled and useless. How can I be a mother  
to this child when I can't even look after myself? I'm watching my life slip slowly away  
from me. I watched his life ebb away, now I'm watching mine do the exact same thing.  
Except I'm alive. I lived. I was strong enough to get out. Strong enough? Or cowardly  
enough? Would dying have been the brave option? Would I have been a hero?   
  
My body was hit with blow after blow in the hours following the worst news. Each one felt  
like a physical wound, and each one hurt me a little more. 8 deaths altogether and that's  
just the staff. Getting out suddenly seemed such a curse to me. I suddenly wished I'd held  
onto his hand and died there with him. It would have taken more strength to stay than to  
leave. I pull myself up slowly and stare into the mirror. It doesn't seem like it's me looking  
back from the glass, but it is.  
  
I'm a mere shadow of my former self. It isn't a pretty image, but it's fact. Limp hair,  
sallow skin, sunken eyes and that's just what people see. The inside - the part I hide - is  
rotting away also. Grief, guilt and pain are destroying me like a cancer. This is truly what  
dying feels like.   
  
Dying is losing all those important to you in one moment of insanity, one minute of  
complete madness that turns your world upside down. Dying is trying to go on after it's  
happened. Dying is actually living with the pain of survival. Ironic isn't it? I never  
understood survivor's guilt until now. Not really. Thinking of how I left things - never  
knowing what he thought, never knowing if he'd have supported me. That's stupid, of  
course he would. He loved me too much not to. But having unanswered questions and  
knowing they'll remain unanswered, I can't go on. I can't. Damn being so emotionally  
guarded. There's no way to take back everything I said. Because he's dead. And I have to  
live with that for the rest of my life. How do you go on after something like this?   
  
Retching uncontrollably into the bowl, yet again, I don't think I know. I just want it all to  
be over. I used to think I was stronger than anything life could throw at me. I wasn't was  
I? 


	4. The Ties That Bind

Chapter Three: "The Ties That Bind"  
Elizabeth Corday, F.R.C.S  
  
Valentines Day was nothing special. Not anymore - since the events of the last years. I  
loved my husband every day, no day any more or any less than the others, and I didn't  
have to prove it to him nor him to me. Not since I nearly lost him, not since he nearly  
missed out on seeing our beautiful baby daughter. It does make you take each day at a  
time, and try to make something in it worthwhile. That's why I do what I do. How easily  
that can all come crashing to a halt was not something I was prepared to accept, until I  
was forced to.   
  
County General Hospital Surgical Floor, 14/2/02 9:55am  
  
Ella was up all night. I was not in the best temper. I haven't been in the best temper since I  
was born, though I's undoubtedly one of the best things to have ever happened to me,  
asides of Mark that is. Being at work was something closely resembling hell at that  
moment in time, it's the last place on earth I can be bothered being. That's just not like  
me. I was exhausted. Being a mother does that to you I guess. Shame no one warns you  
just how bad it is. I was walking down the corridor outside the OR, away from Romano  
and yet another pointless argument. I needed some time to think, to clear my head and to  
try and recover my composure a little. He really managed to rattle me. After all these  
years, he can still do that. In the blissful silence, my ears are assaulted by my pager. I  
delved reluctantly into the scrubs pocket and fiId it out. I was being paged to the ER. This  
had better be important, I thought angrily, storming towards the stairs to the ER.   
"What's going on?"  
They looked up stunned at my barked question. Benton began to explain to me as I  
walked over to the gurney. I hadn't gone more than two steps towards the patient when it  
happened. Light and heat and sound exploded into my mind with uncontrollable force and  
I was momentarily stunned. I felt my back hit something solid and sank down in relief,  
trying to comprehend what had happened. Dust stung my frightened eyes as I stared  
around, saw the devastation, and realised with a horrifying jolt what this was. Adrenaline  
kicked in instantly, fighting with my shocked body to let me escape. This conflict lasted  
mere seconds before there was a second wave of sound and movement. Maybe they were  
the same, I couldn't distinuguish between my senses, they were all overloaded. I screwed  
my irritated eyes shut and held my breath until it was over. Glass, metal shards, plaster and  
wood rained down on us. I felt my chest constrict, tighten in reaction to trauma, and I  
fought for every breath, fought to stay awake. It wasn't going to beat me. I don't know  
how long it was after the second explosion when my ears heard another person breathing,  
somewhere in the room. The pain in my chest was intensifying, I couldn't speak or shout,  
I couldn't even move. My survival instinct was stronger than ever. I was a mother and Ella  
needed me. There was nothing I could do though, I was trapped, trapped by my own weak  
body. Frustration rose in me, and with no reasonable outlet, only served to make my  
breathing harder. Relief coursed in waves through my veins when I heard movement and I  
was practically ecstatic when I heard Benton shout out.  
"Elizabeth? Are you alright?"  
He was by my side instantaneously it seemed. I tried to smile weakly at him for  
reassurance, but he looked more worried than I'd ever seen him. I could see the thoughts  
running in his mind and they echoed mine exactly. I didn't know what he was going to do  
then though.   
"Never felt better..."  
He held my shoulders as I gasped for air. Humour as a defence is an age-old trick, but  
here only worsened my situation.   
"Can't...breathe..."  
I finished, gasping and clawing at nothing desperately, as my lungs struggled for air. Reality  
was beginning to slip away from me, and I couldn't let that happen. I wasn't strong  
enough to fight it anymore. my eyes closed and my head fell forwards onto his shoulder.   
"Elizabeth. Lizzie. Are you trapped? Can you move?"  
His voice was becoming more and more urgent. I wasn't trapped, wasn't pinned by  
anything physical. I managed to move my head against his shoulder to indicate no. His  
muscles tensed. I think I probably realised then the plan forming in his mind.   
"We have to get out of here,"  
"I can't...can't..."  
It wasn't in my nature to give up, but my tortured lungs were begging to be released from  
this agony, my whole body wracked with pain from lack of oxygen. I felt the loose rubble  
swept aside off my legs, but wasn't expecting what came next. Strong arms lifted me off  
the ground. Taken completely by surprise, I coughed abruptly at being disturbed, then  
finally I passed out. It was a blessed relief. I don't remember anything that happened  
between there and the hospital bed, and I'm quite glad of that.   
  
Northwestern ER, 14/2/02 16:52  
  
"Hi,"  
I looked up at the voice from the bed, still feeling very fragile. Breathing was easier,  
thought my chest still hurt. Bruised ribs - it would for a while. Benton entered and sat by  
my bed, looking decidedly nervous and very shaken. It was unusual for someone normally  
so together. It was difficult to hold together under this kind of pressure, it had to be.  
"How are you?"  
I smiled up at him pathetically. I wasn't the Lizzie he was used to and I could see that  
frightened him.   
"Been better,"  
"They keeping you in?"  
The nod was barely there. I sensed there was something he wanted to talk to me about,  
something he wanted to say to me that he wasn't. He couldn't upset me, that damage had  
already been done. I feared for everyone's lives, I feared for everyone of my colleagues. I  
feared for my husband and my daughter and wondered if we'd ever be a family again.   
"Just for safety's sake,"  
I'd suffered a heavy blow to the chest. They had to keep an eye on that, in case there were  
further complications from the impact. Benton laid his hand on mine supportively, looking  
straight into my tired eyes. I'm sure he could see the worry that lay there, but had as yet  
gone unexpressed.   
"Elizabeth, there's something I have to tell you,"  
I cast my eyes aside, immeadiately filled with dread, and tightened my fingers round his  
for reassurance there would be someone there when my world fell apart.  
"I know what you're about to say. Mark didn't make it did he?"  
I made the pre-emptive strike, and the mournful look in his eyes told me it was true. His  
voice was very small.  
"He hasn't been found yet,"  
Silent tears flowed unbidded from my eyes. If he hasn't been found by now, the chances of  
him being alive are slim. And getting slimmer every second. With every beat of my  
pounding heart, my husband slipped further from my life, I could sense it. Grief began to  
flow in my veins like ice. Somehow through my tears, I gathered enough strength to ask  
the same question undoubtedly on every survivors mind.  
"He's not the only one is he?"  
Benton shook his head sadly. I trembled from head to toe, chilled and shocked by the days  
events, and by the prospect of losing so much so quickly.  
"Tell me, please, I want to know,"  
He lowered his head, clearly haunted by what he'd seen at the site earlier. I didn't know  
then what it was, but I understood later why it was.  
"Peter?"  
Taking a deep breath, I questioned his silence. Composure regained, he spoke quietly.  
"They've found three others so far."  
"Who?"  
He paused notably. I closed my eyes, tasting the salt of my tears on my lips, and tensed  
myself for the answer.  
"Cleo, Carter and Kovac,"  
I stifled a cry for him. What a tragic double blow. My heart broke all over again for him in  
that instant. I watched him was he continued, pain in his words that hadn't been  
previously evident.   
"Weaver, Romano, Malucci, Haleh and Lily are still missing. Abby, Jerry, Yosh and Chen  
got out alive,"  
There was some good news, but the grief still hit like a train. Time stopped for me then,  
my life ground to a jarring halt.   
"I'm sorry, Peter,"  
"Yeah, me too,"  
I rested my head back against the pillow. I think I ran out of tears in the minutes that  
followed. I haven't cried so intensely in my life. I never want to again. There was no way of putting this back together, no way of mending this, and as a doctor I felt completely helpless. This wasn't an illness, and no number of stitches would ever heal these wounds. I was alone and helpless. Benton stayed, just watching me as I drifted into a fitful sleep, always holding my hand tight in his own for reassurance. What else could he do? 


	5. Seemingly Lifeless

Chapter Four: "Seemingly Lifeless"  
Elizabeth Corday, F.R.C.S  
  
Innocence and beauty all wrapped up in white blanket. My child. Our child. Ella Greene  
slept easy, breathing gently, little knowing the pain already pervading her short life. I  
looked down at my baby with the love only a mother could know. Ella and I shared a bond  
neither I nor she could ever fully understand or appreciate. It was just a shame Ella could  
never know her father's love. I wanted him to walk in the door. To have him back in my  
life, my home, my bed. I hated thinking, let alone talking, in the singular. The 9 months of  
my pregnancy had been the hardest of my life and when Ella was born I finally thought my  
troubles were over. I looked into the shadows of our home, peering into the darkness -  
seeing the acquisitions made in happier times. I was alone. Not for the first time in my life  
but this was certainly the most painful. When Ella was born I'd thought that at last my life  
was going to work out, I was going to be happy. This was destiny - with this man and this  
child. Maybe I'd been idealistic but then again - didn't every little girl dream of a fairytale  
life? I'd just wanted to have it all and for a while I'd thought I was very close. But I'd  
never know my husbands love again - the long nights seemed tortuous without his love,  
and his arms, to keep me warm. The bed was achingly big without him. The world was  
achingly big. I'd lost all sense of focus. The house was a shell of the family home it could  
have been. Its four walls echoed him, his thoughts, his words, his being. I sat in the dark,  
my baby peaceful in my arms, wondering why I'd ended up as a single mother. Wondering  
what the higher powers had against me ever being happy.  
  
Whatever happened to forever? I wonder bitterly. I don't mind Ella being awake all night  
at the moment. She's teething now and cries all the time. Nothing could make this any  
worse, I'm not sleeping as it is. She doesn't know her mummy's having nightmares,  
but I am. Awful dreams of death and destruction on a scale I wished I'd never known. So  
many people, so many good people, died in the rubble of County General. Friends, lovers  
and families of so many perished. It's like looking into a black hole, never seeing an end to  
this.  
  
I'm making myself ill again and that's no good for Ella. I'm exhausted. I barely ever get  
up. Holding Ella is all that gives me comfort and I know ultimately will be the only thing  
that pulls me through, knowing there's another life dependent on me for everything. I  
can't give up, easier though it is, because she needs me. My role as a mother must come  
first, especially now. I may be hurting, I always will, but I'm all she has. 


	6. Hero

Chapter Five: "Hero"  
Peter Benton, M.D  
  
I don't have much time for pointless celebrations like Valentines Day, nothing different  
seems to happen. It all seems a little commercial. Why take one day to prove you love  
someone? You should do that the whole year round, or that's how I was brought up. Now  
I have even less reason to want it celebrated.   
  
County General ER, 14/2/02 9:55am  
  
I had just come on and had met the rig in the bay. A case of bad timing, but it was good to  
be in at the deep end. Elizabeth had been paged, and she entered the room looking furious.  
I was actually a little intimidated by her barked question. Her brows were knitted together  
and she had that look about her that said don't mess with me. I began to answer her  
question but didn't get very far before I was knocked from my feet. Winded but unhurt, I  
immeadiately tried to get up and get back to the patient, but I didn't get very far before I  
was thrown to the floor again, by another invisible blow, this time far stronger. I suppose I  
was lucky I wasn't injured. I lay still for a second, afraid of another blast, and when it  
didn't come I began to lever myself upright again. I struggled to my feet in the wreckage  
of trauma 2. I looked around in disbelief for a second. The patient was dead. Had been  
before whatever happened. I remembered was being thrown to the floor, and the heat, that  
blistering heat searing my skin, but couldn't form a complete or logical picture. Looking  
around, seeing the darkness lit only by flickering flames, I was stunned. Rubble, concrete,  
plaster, timber lay strewn at my feet. This wasn't real. This was a scene from an action  
film. For a second I froze, fearing I was the only one alive in the silence, before recovering  
himself. Who else had been in the trauma room? Who was under all this? I remembered  
Elizabeth. I scanned around, seeing a shadowy form near the door. Her red hair was white  
with dust and covered a strained expression.  
"Elizabeth. Are you alright?"  
I called across to her, forcing my shocked limbs into action. I moved to crouch her side.  
She was slouched semi-upright under the sink. She smiled at me weakly.  
"Never felt better..."  
I held her shoulders as she gasped for air. Her muscles tensed and spasmed beneath my  
grip.   
"Can't...breathe..."  
She finished, before closing her eyes and resting her head on my shoulder. I shook her  
gently. Don't dare pass out, not when I can't help you.   
"Elizabeth. Lizzie. Are you trapped? Can you move?"  
My voice was becoming more and more urgent. For the first time real fear and panic  
began to rise within me. I realised there was more riding on her survival, and on mine,  
than just our own lives. Important as they were, we had to get out for our children. Ella  
needed her and Rees needed me, and that spurred my anxiety to greater heights. Her red  
curls shook almost impercitibly. I had to get out, while I still could. And if she could  
move, I was taking her with me.   
"We have to get out of here,"  
"I can't...can't..."  
It wasn't in Elizabeths nature to give up, but it sounded like she already had. Forgetting  
the basics of my medical training and running completely on instinct, I cleared the loose  
rubble from her legs and scooped her up. She coughed abruptly at being disturbed, then  
passed out. I ran out into the main admit area, searching desperately for a way out. Only  
one of the windows looked vaguely manageable. I dashed up to it, smashed it open as best  
I could with the available rubble and climbed through, still cradling my unconscious  
colleague. Once back in the open air, I gulped as much clean air as I could into my  
poisoned lungs, trying to clear my throat and my head. Instantly, functioning became much  
more lucid again. I laid her down on the asphalt, checked her breathing and merely sat  
down beside her, my limbs unable to carry me one step further. What I'd just done hit him  
all in a rush. I hadn't been thinking about it. The enormity of the situation came rushing up  
to meet me, and I felt uncharacteristically faint. Our workplace had been blown to bits. I  
was out. I'd saved lives. Sure, it was only what I was trained to do, but it was a different  
situation. Soon after, the spiralling lights and low wail of the rigs drawing in disturbed me.  
I'd never been happier to see them in my life. Help was here.  
  
County General Ambulance Bay, 10:30am  
  
"Any idea how many were in there?"  
I shrugged. The fire chief looked at me disapprovingly. I didn't. Ashamed as I was, I  
hadn't been paying close attention. I'd been so focussed on the patient, and then on  
Elizabeth. It made me feel very stupid.   
"No...This isn't making our job any easier, Dr Benton,"  
"That whole things unstable, chief, it could go at any moment,"  
A third man joined the group, the bearer of bad news. The older man paused thoughtfully.  
"Do you think anyone's alive?"  
I heard myself addressed again. I shrugged hopelessly, I didn't know. I really wished I did  
but I didn't. I hoped they were, but watching the fire rage away, it seemed less and less  
likely.   
"I don't know,"  
"Can we support it in any way?"  
The chief asked the other man, ignoring my distraction.  
"Cranes on it's way. I'm not sending men in till it gets here,"  
"So anyone who is alive is left to die?"  
I raged suddenly, watching the hospital closely for any signs of movement, incensed that  
these men appeared to be willing to play God with my colleagues lives.  
"Would you rather more people died?"  
The chief addressed the younger man. I stared at the wrecked building and fought to  
remember who was inside. I heard the fire rage, seeing the flames flicker and move. It was  
spreading. People were dying in there. Burning to death. It was a horrid image.  
"My colleagues are dying. If you won't go back in, I will,"  
It was pure desperation. Absolute hopelessness drove me to it. I moved towards the  
building but found my way angrily barred. I fumed pointlessly, realising with a jolt Cleo  
was in there. God, be alive, I prayed. Be alive. I couldn't help. All I could do was stand  
and hope and it just didn't seem enough.  
  
County General Ambulance Bay, 12:15  
  
"You should get checked out, Dr Benton,"  
I wasn't aware of how long I'd been standing there, staring hopelessly. Fire hoses were  
aimed, jetting water at the fire, but fighting an increasingly losing battle. My dreams  
collapsing in front of me. The fire chief stood by me again.  
"I'm alright,"  
I dismissed thoughtlessly. I wasn't hurt. I wasn't ill. I was alive. Could this prove to be the  
worst curse of them all? Especially if they all died. Chen was alive, but barely. I'd never  
been more relieved to see anyone in my life. Even her lifeless form on the asphalt gave me  
vague hope maybe they weren't all dead. Maybe Cleo was alive.   
"Cranes about 5 minutes away. Then we'll be able to send more men in,"  
I nodded aimlessly.   
"There are people alive in there."  
I said suddenly. I sensed an intense and curious gaze on me.  
"How d'ya know now?"  
"Because they don't give up that easily,"  
I said plaintively. All this was very out of character, I wasn't used to feeling completely  
helpless the way I did now. I helped people. That was my job. A job I shared with the man  
standing next to me, who looked puzzled at this sudden show of emotion. With that, the  
crane inched into the bay. I turned and looked and immeadiately cursed it. It had taken too  
long already.   
  
County General Ambulance Bay, 16:29  
  
All of a sudden, I was hit by a double blow which knocked me into next week. First, they  
pulled my girlfriend from the wreckage. From my vantage point, a safe distance away, I  
could see her body was a mess, crushed and deformed by falling masonry. I almost  
screamed out loud, the pain felt that real. She'd left me. She was dead. Then came my  
protege. I was still protective of that young man, right till the end. And this was the end.  
The only outward sign of death was the shrapnel scarring his neck. I reeled away, finding  
it difficult to cope with the scale of this. Shock seared through my limbs, leaving them  
numb and useless. My heart broke over and over and I couldn't control my feelings. I felt  
absolutely lost for virtually the first time ever.   
"Are there any more in there?"  
I asked. I didn't really want to know. The firefighter shrugged.  
"We don't know. Could take days to find them,"  
I nodded slowly.  
"Where'd they take the survivors?"  
Apart from him, Chen, Lizzie and Abby had been pulled from the wreckage so far.  
"Northwestern I think,"  
I acknowledged the mans help and began walking to my car. I couldn't help the dead but I  
could still help the living. I feared the worst for the rest. The roads were surprisingly clear,  
I didn't care about tickets or fines, speeding through the streets towards some hope in the  
darkness. Somehow, the little things in life didn't seem to matter that much in the face of  
tragedy.  
  
Northwestern Emergency Room, 14/2/02 16:52  
  
"Hi,"  
She looked up at him from the bed, looking very small, very frail. Her red hair was in stark  
contrast to a pale face. I sat by her bed, afraid to say anything to upset her, knowing  
eventually she'd ask.  
"How are you?"  
She smiled up at me weakly. It wasn't the radiant, feisty Elizabeth Corday I was used to  
seeing and it frightened me.  
"Been better,"  
"They keeping you in?"  
The nod was barely there.  
"Just for safety's sake,"  
She'd been hit in the chest. They had to keep an eye on that, in case there were further  
complications from the blow. I laid my hand on hers supportively, looking straight into her  
tired eyes.  
"Elizabeth, there's something I have to tell you,"  
She cast her eyes aside and tightened her fingers round mine.   
"I know what you're about to say. Mark didn't make it did he?"  
"He hasn't been found yet,"  
Tears stung the corners of my eyes as I saw her begin to cry soundlessly. Through her  
tears, she gathered enough strength to ask the same question on every survivors mind.  
"He's not the only one is he?"  
I shook my head sadly. Her hand trembled in mine.  
"Tell me, please, I want to know,"  
I lowered my head, knowing I'd be haunted by todays events for the rest of my life unable  
to rid myself of the visions I'd seen at the site. The pictures of those who had died would  
never leave me and I wished my last memory of them wasn't as cruel and twisted as it  
was.  
"Peter?"  
She questioned my silence. Composure regained, I spoke quietly.  
"They've found three others so far."  
"Who?"  
I paused notably.  
"Cleo, Carter and Kovac,"  
Elizabeths eyes closed as she stifled a cry. Seeing her distress, my broken heart finally  
shattered, exploding in my chest as I truly realised the scale of this news, the true meaning  
of what I was saying.   
"Weaver, Romano, Malucci, Haleh and Lily are still missing. Abby, Jerry, Yosh and Chen  
got out alive,"  
There was some good news, but the grief still hit like a train, as I well knew.  
"I'm sorry, Peter,"  
"Yeah, me too,"  
She rested her head back against the pillow, and cried herself to sleep. I watched her,  
holding her hand tight in my own for reassurance. What else could I do but be there for  
her? We all needed someone.  
  
Northwestern Ambulance Bay, 17:25  
  
I left Elizabeth about a half hour later, once I was sure she was asleep again. I couldn't  
bear it anymore, the claustrophobia of all the grief in one room was too much for me. I  
walked slowly through the department, trying to ignore how like County it seemed. I  
supposed that would happen for a long time wouldn't it? I'd probably see aspects of today  
in everything I did from now on. I exited through the double doors into the street and sank  
to the sidewalk. The stares from strangers were curious, even accusing at times, but I  
ignored them. I was shattered. My whole life had fallen apart today in a way I never  
expected. I knew I should try to find out what was going on back at County, but somehow  
didn't think I could cope with anymore bad news. As I sat there, gathering my thoughts,  
another rig pulled up. Northwestern's doctors ran out to greet it, the way we would have  
had this been County. It wasn't though. I stood to get a better view, hoping it was another  
survivor. I was right, but then I wished I wasn't. How many burns victims had I dealt with  
in my years as a doctor? Yet somehow, when it's someone you know on the gurney, it's a  
completely different deal. I followed them into the ER and watched through the trauma  
room doors. I had been through these procedures so often, I knew them by heart, knew  
what they were saying although I couldn't hear it. I also knew how bad this was. He must  
have been under that rubble 3 or 4 hours at least. The outlook, I could tell instinctively,  
was decidedly grim. I may never have liked the younger resident but I wouldn't wish a  
death like this on my worst enemy. For now, he was alive. And somehow, that little sliver  
of hope was something definite to hold onto. 


	7. Don't Let It End This Way

Author's note: Due to the AU nature of this fic - the Marfan's case in early season 8, both  
doctors were only suspended. Oh, and I know the timings all wrong, but artistic licence  
O.K?  
  
Chapter Six: "Don't Let It End This Way"  
Jing-Mei Chen, M.D  
  
I think I deserved a break. A little luck in life for a change. Death, adoption, and now  
suspension. I worked all hours making up my residency after Michael, and that was the  
thanks I got. Everyone makes mistakes. It's sad what it takes to make you realise that isn't  
it? I didn't get it. Luck wasn't on my side, yet again.  
  
County General ER, 14/2/02, 9:55am  
  
Wow, this is awkward, I thought nervously. I eyed Kerry apprehensive, biting on my  
bottom lip. I watched him, equally closely. The tension was palpable. This wasn't  
something I wanted to be in the middle of. But I was. We were both lucky to have jobs. I  
knew it, but I wasn't sure he felt entirely the same way.   
"Glad to be back?"  
I snapped my neck round, trying to determine if the question had been directed at me. It  
had. I sensed that my answer was awaited, not only by my boss but by him too.  
"Yeah, I am,"  
I nodded to affirm my answer, but could feel his eyes boring into my back. He knew I was  
a liar. If I could have avoided this situation I would, I thought, if only you knew, if only  
any of you knew. There was a job to do, but I couldn't tear myself away from this. I so  
wanted to talk to him, but what would I say? There was nothing either of us could do to  
make up for what had come to pass recently. The silence hung over the three of them like  
a death pall, heavy and emotional, with no one entirely sure what to do or to say next.  
Eventually, I heard him break for the door and decided to do the same myself. I never  
reached it though, as chart in hand I was thrown to the floor. That was the last thing I was  
aware of before I passed out.   
  
I opened my eyes moments after impact, scared of what I'd see. It felt like a nightmare  
and all I wanted to do was close my eyes again and make it go away. It was a minute  
before I was fully lucid. I was staring straight up. There used to be a ceiling there, but now  
there wasn't. Plaster hung raggedly from the edges of a gaping hole. my hands were  
sticky, I realised, and as I extricated them to examine the sensation, I saw it was blood. I  
wasn't aware of any pain. I was aware of the searing heat on my right cheek. Fire. I bit my  
tongue to stop from crying. This was it, wasn't it? This was what dying felt like.  
"Hello!"  
I called into the silence. Who'd been in this room with me? What the hell had happened? I  
listened intently, trying to make out breathing, or any sounds of anyone living.  
"Jing-Mei, is that you?"  
A voice called, rasping on a dry throat, from my left. I turned my head.  
"Kerry?"  
"Yes. Are you hurt?"  
It was a good question. I wasn't in any pain, but that didn't mean I wasn't injured. I was  
finding it increasingly difficult to breathe, but that was natural in the dust and smoke that  
surrounded us.   
"Not badly. Chests tight but I'll live. You?"  
"Don't think so,"  
"Can you move?"  
I heard frantic scrabbling.  
"Kind of,"  
"Anyone else in this room, can you remember?"  
Had he still been in this room? Had he left the room before the explosion or had it caught  
him on the move? I couldn't remember, and feared the latter.   
"Dave, I think,"  
Came the choked answer. I looked around. Kerry was 5ft to my left, and to my right a ring  
of fire spread around the room. I couldn't cry out to him but I hadn't heard any  
movement. The heat on my face was intensifying. The fire was on the move. In an instant,  
I sat up. Pain bolted through me from the base of my spine. I set my teeth against it and  
pushed myself into a kneeling position. I crawled inch by inch towards the flames. I tried  
to be undeterred even when the fire sprang fingers towards me, singing my eyebrows.  
Inside I was shaking, terrified, but my caring instinct had kicked in. If he was dead and  
there was nothing I could do, at least I'd made sure. If he wasn't, I might be able to help  
him.   
"Is he there?"  
Kerry croaked. I couldn't see him, but smoke was blurring my vision. A shadow loomed  
out of the darkness, prone and still, lying right next to the fire. I crawled forward, white  
hot ash on the floor burning my knees, searing pain into my palms. I reached him and  
raised my fingers to his pulse. Or where I hoped his pulse would be. I prayed I'd feel the  
beat under my fingers, prayed he was alive. I held a deep breath until I felt the steady  
pounding. It was slow but it was there. I sighed heavily and sat back on my haunches,  
considering what to do next. All the time, fire was spreading, and there was the constant  
threat of further collapses. I knew all this. I was terrified but I was trying to keep it under  
control. A calm exterior belied a shaking interior. I didn't want to die either, not like this.   
"Is he there?"   
Kerry called again, clearer this time.  
"Yes. Yes, he's here,"  
"Is he alive?"  
Amid the crackle and hiss of the fire I lowered my ear to his face. Please be breathing.  
Please. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the imminent danger overhead. The ceiling  
timbers were burning, flaming a warning red and dropping tiny sparks. I tried not to panic,  
tried to concentrate on the effort in hand and was delighted to hear shallow breaths.   
"Yes. He's alive,"  
There was no response from our boss. It was as if she was disappointed. No, that's not  
true, she doesn't like him, she wouldn't wish him dead, Kerry isn't like that. I dismissed  
those thoughts quickly. I muttered a "just" aside to myself. I looked over his prone form -  
noting no obvious injuries apart from the burns. Burns which would only get worse.  
"Can you help him?"  
"Not here. I can barely see him,"  
"Jing-Mei!"  
The cry was anguished. I saw the rubble over my boss shift slightly as more plaster fell  
from the ceiling. I covered my head with my hands and held my breath till the dust shower  
passed. Thankful it was only dust, I looked up.  
"Kerry,"  
I called, hopeful she would still respond to the sound of my voice.   
"Please. Get help. Save yourself, Jing-Mei, or we'll all die,"  
The panic in the redheads weakened voice was obvious.  
"It's on my to do list, Kerry,"  
I snapped, feeling my loyalties sorely divided and my survival instinct battling to be let out.  
I couldn't have their deaths on my conscience, but I wanted to live myself. I was hesitating  
between attempting to crawl out the ruined doorway and staying to help my colleagues.  
"Go, Jing-Mei,"  
Kerry screeched again, over an ear-splitting crack. The beam was crashing, flames fanned,  
towards the spot Dave and I were sitting targets. I had milliseconds to act and I didn't  
even think. I pulled him as hard as I could, hoping he'd move enough to get him out of the  
way. I screwed my eyes shut. The timber crashed into the floor, shaking the room. I  
looked quickly at the spot where it had landed and was relieved to see I'd managed to pull  
him clear. I paused, breathing hard, then scrambled from the room, hands scratching and  
clawing against rubble. I had to get help. I wasn't ready to die. I have no concept of how  
long it took me to get from the room to the outside, but it felt like an interminably long  
time. I just kept crawling and crawling, past ruined exam rooms, piles of rubble, knowing  
my colleagues could be under any one of them, desperately searching for a way out. The  
relief at finding a suitable aperture was unreal. I scrambled towards it, smelling survival,  
sensing freedom. I was glad to feel the cold air on my scorched skin, the cold concrete  
came as relief to my torn and burnt hands and knees. I crawled free of the building into the  
only safe darkness I'd ever known, took two huge gulps of air and collapsed onto the  
solid, safe surface below me. My limbs wouldn't carry me an inch further. I was amongst  
help. I was safe. I was conscious, but barely lucid.  
"Jing-Mei,"  
My name in familiar gruff tones was a great comfort to me. I couldn't move, and my head  
was spinning uncontrollably.   
"I need a gurney over here,"  
I heard him yell. I was manhandled onto my back, and I looked up into his troubled brown  
eyes. I didn't know what had come to pass or even what was really going on. I hadn't had  
that much time to think about it. It had all been about getting out.   
"Chen. Can you hear me?"  
I nodded slowly. My mouth began to form words, which I stuttered out.  
"Help them...suture room..."  
An oxygen mask was clamped firmly over my face and it was a relief to be able to breathe  
easily again. my eyes stung, my vision blurred and teary. He nodded down at my. I zoned  
out after that, shocked, traumatised, guilty and physically exhausted. They had to live, I  
thought desperately, as the ambulance sped me away from County. I haven't abandoned  
you, I yelled in my head, I hoped they knew that, I saved myself. How would I live if they  
died? I got help. I needed to help myself now.  
  
Northwestern Emergency Room, 14/2/02, 16:32  
  
The room was unfamiliar to my bemused mind. I was disorientated as I awoke and  
immediately panicked.   
"Where am I?"  
I gulped helplessly, choking on my own fear. A minute passed, and I remembered. It all  
flooded back - the noise, the heat, the pain. Guilt tore through me. What if they'd died?  
I'd left them. I was living. The door opened.  
"Jing-Mei. Back with us I see,"  
The doctor was male, about 30, who looked at me with a concerned yet pitying look on  
his handsome face. I glared at him irrationally.   
"Where am I?"  
I demanded angrily.  
"Northwestern."  
He approached my bed slowly.  
"Do you remember what happened?"  
His voice was low and gentle. I narrowed my eyes against the pain. I struggled to  
remember exactly what happened, what exactly had brought me here. I had fragments of  
it, snatches of conversation, sensation but nothing that formed a complete picture that  
made any sense.   
"There was an explosion. You and your colleagues were caught in the blast,"  
I nodded hopelessly. I wasn't the only one alive was I? Was that why the doctor looked so  
pitying of me? Infinite numbers of possibilities spun in my mind all of a sudden. Grief rose  
from my heart and spread slowly through my body.  
"Am I...? Did they get anyone else out?"  
The doctor glanced at the floor and back up at me, looking sad.  
"What?"  
It was a half-sob and it caught in the back of my throat. I was fearing the worst and  
dreading hearing it confirmed.   
"They've pulled at least 6 bodies from the rubble already. They don't know how many  
others are under there, it could take days,"  
My world fell apart around me, and I was powerless to stay in control.  
"What about survivors?"  
My voice cracked, forced around the lump in my throat.   
"6 so far including you,"  
6. 6 out of all those people. How am I still alive? I looked down at my hands, white  
bandages covering the scarred skin. Scars. That would be all I would be left with wouldn't  
it? Scars and memories. I couldn't cope with that, I just couldn't.   
"You'll be in here a while, but we hope to move you up to a room just as soon as one  
becomes available,"  
"How bad is it?"  
I turned my hands over and over again.  
"Third degree, both palms and lower legs. Smoke inhalation. Cuts and bruises. You were  
lucky,"  
Lucky? Lucky was the last word to describe this situation. My world was coming crashing  
to an end and that was all he could say. I felt so far from lucky. Lost, bereft and confused  
covered it just a little better. But he wasn't me and he couldn't know. I couldn't expect  
anyone else to understand.  
"Tell me one thing before you go..."  
But he was gone. I needed to know. I was alone, alone in the world and all I wanted to  
know was whether my efforts had been in vain. I wanted to know if they'd died. 


	8. Too Many Goodbyes

Chapter Seven: "Too Many Goodbyes"  
Jing-Mei Chen, M.D  
  
I spent too much time in this unit. More than I'd like to. But I needed to get better. I  
needed to do this for myself. I couldn't let this defeat me - though in the past three weeks,  
it'd seemed likely that it would. When I wasn't here for treatment I was here visiting  
Dave. Roughly 3 weeks had passed since the blast, and he was the only one of them who's  
survival was still in doubt. Each day that passed, his chances were slimmer and slimmer. I  
was praying for the day I walked in and he'd opened his eyes. I couldn't lose them both.  
Weaver hadn't lasted the day, she had passed away in the ICU the day after the explosion.  
It wasn't a shock, but it did make his survival all the more important. I sometimes came  
here and just sat in the darkened room next to him. It was the only place I thought clearly.  
The silence helped me organise my feelings, stopped me from getting overwhelmed. It was  
also a private place to sit and cry. I'd come here after the funerals. Seeing the scale of the  
grief had forced guilt upon me like a ton weight. Fatherless daughters, motherless sons,  
daughterless mothers and sonless fathers, all that lost just like that. Their lives had  
changed in that moment and would continue to change, because what could ever be the  
same again? This had been all over the media, hysteria had gripped the city, but the public  
at large found it difficult to grasp the scale of the private grief. You couldn't truly know  
unless you'd been there. Something I'd rue forever I had been. It'd been another one  
today. Another funeral, that's why I was here.   
"Hi,"  
I spoke to him, hopeful what they said about coma victims was true. I must have poured  
my heart out hundreds of times, said things to him I wouldn't have dared say if he was  
awake. Private things I knew he couldn't help but keep a secret.   
"Here again,"  
I shrugged and smiled a sad smile, sitting down in my usual place. I couldn't touch him,  
but then I didn't really want to.   
"Mark's today. Finally."  
I wasn't sure why his was so late compared to the rest. I supposed they had to be sure the  
body was his. Apparently, it was so horrific they had had to identify him by dental records.  
Poor Elizabeth, I thought hopelessly, knowing there was nothing I could say to make this  
any easier on the widow.  
"That's the last funeral I'm attending in the long while,"  
Hope filled my tone, hope and belief. Belief he wouldn't leave me too. It was a determined  
statement, and meant only one thing - for God's sakes don't you die on me too. The black  
suit was like a second skin to me now. I seemed to spend more time wearing it that  
anything else in my wardrobe. Maybe now the funeral's and the formality was over, I  
could begin my own private grief process, without having everyone else's hanging over  
me too. I'd lost a good, good friend in that instant of insanity. He'd pulled through once  
before, but no one has the strength to twice. My feelings were nothing against the tower  
of Elizabeth's grief for the father of her baby, or even Abby's. It was common knowledge  
she was pregnant now, and keeping the baby. But, it didn't make it any less real for me  
than it was for them.   
"That's the formality over. Guess I can retreat into myself now,"  
I tilted my head and looked at his scarred form. This would take years to heal. He would  
never be the same again. None of us would though. It made my own scarred hands and  
legs seem pitiful - although my injuries were a serious threat to my career I couldn't  
ignore. The ICU nurses ignored me now, I was there so much of the time. They buzzed in  
efficiently, did what they had to do and left me again in the relative quiet. It didn't look  
like he was alive. I wished I could hold his hand and feel that he was because this didn't  
seem real. I remembered my relief when he'd had a pulse. There hadn't been a feeling like  
it I could remember. If I'd known then this would be the outcome, maybe I wouldn't have  
been so happy about it. Truth was, I didn't have another thing I really wanted to say, so I  
just sat there, staring. It was about 15 minutes later when I realised I had to leave. I had an  
appointment with the hospital counsellor. Just routine, or so I hoped, therapy wasn't my  
scene, especially not now. I lifted my head to say goodbye and saw the one thing I'd been  
praying for above all others. Tears flowed unbidden from my eyes in unconfined joy.  
"Oh God!"  
I cried, slamming my hand on the call button.   
"How long have I waited to see that?"  
I sobbed overwhelmed. The nurses were in instantly. They too looked pleased.   
"Back with us,"  
The older nurse said, happiness undisguised in her tone. Happiness couldn't even cover  
how I felt. For him it was only just beginning. But, I decided right there and then, I would  
be there every step of the way. 


	9. To Hell And Back

To Hell And Back  
Dave Malucci, M.D  
  
People ask how I live with my scars. I ask how I'd live without them. The physical manifestation of the terrible pain I bear is nothing. What's inside is all the worse. All the anger, all the guilt, all the confusion, all the petty why-mes? All the sorrow, all the heartbreak. In the blemished skin, I see anguish, I see red raw cutting passionate grief, but I see hope. In that day, what little I remember, I see nothing but pain, but I look at my scars and find I still know what hope is.  
  
I don't remember much of the day it happened, and what I don't remember isn't likely to come back to me now. If I'm honest, this is a blessing. I can't imagine what it would have been like to have been conscious through that. So my story may not be as exciting as others, I may not be the tragic hero Abby has become, or have shown the bravery Chen was forced to, but I survived it. That alone makes it important.   
  
To this day I don't think I can make a whole picture of the event. I remember it was my first day back at work, and relationships between Chen and I and between my boss and I were decidedly strained. I don't remember the confrontation I've heard described in the suture room, I have no recollection of it at all. Maybe fragments but nothing concrete. I was leaving the room, she told me, when the explosion hit. Heat and light pierced my consciousness then, and after that I have nothing. Nothing but the blankness of the coma I was in for three weeks. Three weeks? So much of my life missed, such an important three weeks. For them it was time to come to terms with what had happened to them, time I missed out on. Time I likely as not made all the worse by not waking up sooner. They really musn't have held out any hope that I'd live. Day by day, they probably felt me slipping away.   
  
I think I did too. It's strange what you're aware of in that state. The things you see, but you're not quite sure whether they're real or a figment of your fevered, ill imagination, comforting hallucinations of other times, heartrending memories of what you've been through. I should have been in pain but I wasn't. It was a confusing sensation. I wasn't aware of the real world, of her sitting by my bed virtually day in day out, confessing all to me.   
  
Cliched though it is, your entire life really does run past your eyes, and there's nothing you can do. It makes you realise just how many regrets you've got, how many things you should have done differently, it makes you see your mistakes. And somehow that makes you stronger, because you realise that if you live there's a chance to change things, but somehow makes it hopeless because you know you could still die. It's like limbo and it's indescribably frightening.  
  
I have a lot of regrets. I've done a lot of things wrong and hurt a lot of people. I won't say I'm enlightened, or I'm a changed man because of it, but I certainly see things very differently to the way I did before. I've been given a chance to change things, not to make things right, but to make less mistakes from now on. Human nature is to regret. But everything is about choices. I've made my most important choice - I chose to live.   
  
She told me later how she willed me to live. How she sat there and she willed my eyes to open. She found it in herself to help me, after all she'd been through, she found the strength to help the only way she could. That means more to me now I know. Maybe her strength gave me strength to live on some other level. I don't know. I just know she's too important to let go now. I never will. I can't believe she of all people cried when I woke up. She still cries remembering those moments, but at least they are tears of joy. She's cried enough for a lifetime. We all have.   
  
Rehab has been hellish. Endless tortuous skin grafts, learning to see myself and value myself differently, adapting to the fact that this is how it is, this is what happened. I've never been so grateful for modern medicine in my life. I've never realised I was part of something that could be so important. Get me! I sound so conceited. But I think I have every right. It hasn't been easy, I wouldn't pretend to you for a second that it has. In fact, it's been hell. We've all been to hell. And scarred and strangely proud, I'm on my way slowly back. I think a little conceit is deserved - don't you? 


	10. Nothing Left To Lose

Chapter 10: "Nothing Left To Lose"  
John Carter, M.D  
  
County General Hospital: 14/2/02, 9:55am   
  
"Hey,"  
I entered the lounge feeling fairly emotionally wrung out. It had been a difficult morning  
already, I'd had to tell a 5 year old her parents had died. Children can be difficult to read,  
and I'm not entirely sure she had understood completely what had happened. I had to  
leave for a few minutes, for a coffee and a rest, but I had promised her I'd be back soon.  
She wasn't badly hurt, but she was vulnerable. Apart from that, it hadn't been particularily  
busy. Abby looked miles away. I knew she'd been on since 6am - and she looked  
exhausted. But I wouldn't have been any kind of friend if I'd thought that was where it  
ended. There was something else on her mind. I knew her too well, and it was rare she  
was able to hide anything from me.   
"Hi,"  
Something in her tone sounded dismissive. I wouldn't give up that easily, and she  
wouldn't expect any less.   
"You alright?"  
"Not really,"  
Abby cracked. Maybe now she'd let me help if I could. I wasn't a friend in name only after  
all. I deserved the accolade, she wasn't the easiest person to get along with and she knew  
it.   
"Care to share?"  
There was a slight pause before she placed a sheet of A4 paper on the table in front of me.  
I looked slightly puzzled, then looked down. This hadn't been quite what I was expecting,  
and the only sound I could make was a slightly shocked.  
"Oh,"  
I tried not to sound disappointed, but she probably thought I was.   
"I know, I know,"  
She sounded a little disappointed in herself, and a little resigned too.  
"When did you..? I mean..."  
I never finished my sentence, and never heard her answer either. Truth is, I never quite  
figured out what it was I was actually meaning to ask her. Then it all fell apart, and the  
question was forgotten almost instantly. I closed my eyes as the breath was forced from  
my body, and only opened them again once the wave of sound and movement stopped.  
It's odd how irrational you become in a situation like that, and my first thought wasn't for  
me, but for my patient. I rose and exited quickly, feeling nothing but fear. Not fear for my  
own safety, or for my best friend, which would have been logical at least. I'll never explain  
why I did what I did that day. I don't know how far I got before the second blast threw  
me to the floor again and the lino rushed up to meet me. I passed into a temporary  
unconciousness. It's difficult to describe accurately how it feels being involved in  
something like that. It's like your whole life is blank, nothing in it mattered and nothing  
has happened except the moment you're in. It's a very surreal feeling - I should know,  
I've felt it twice now.   
  
County General Hospital 10:07am  
  
My eyes blinked open again with great difficulty. The silence all around was deafening.  
Faintly, in the distance, I could just hear the crashing and crackling as flames voraciously  
devoured what little was left of the building. I couldn't move. I was face down against the  
linoleum, so all I saw was black. I was hit by a sudden sense of helplessness. Once again, I  
was reliant on other people to potentially save my life. I wasn't aware of any pain.  
Nevertheless I felt for injuries. I found only one. Something had sliced into the side of my  
neck and was lodged there. My fingers felt the cold, sharp edges, and gradually I became  
aware of the blood dripping from it, over my hand. I kept my hand there, for reassurance it  
was real if nothing else.   
  
I decided praying and pleading was useless. If they were supposed to save me, they would.  
If they weren't then this was my time. I don't know what in me became so rational at that  
point, but I sensed struggling would only make this messy situation all the worse. If this  
was the end, which I think I unconsciously knew it was, then at least it could be peaceful.  
Unlike my life.   
  
I did have regrets. I would have regrets. Life hadn't exactly turned out the way I'd always  
planned. I went over and over it, realising this could be my last chance to make sense of it.  
Of all I'd lost, all the pain I'd suffered especially recently, and all I was about to lose as  
well. I didn't register the irony of it being the anniversary for a moment, then I  
remembered the date and allowed myself a sad smile. A year ago today, she'd died and I'd  
lived. This year, was fate destined to finally catch up with me?   
  
The thoughts I had in those minutes were both painful and intense under normal  
circumstances, but I didn't have the strength to struggle against them. I had to let them  
wash through me. I wondered who would live and who had died. Who would be strong  
enough to get out? I wondered about leaving my colleagues, these people who had been  
more of a family to me over the years than my blood relations, and especially I worried  
about leaving Abby.   
  
I wondered if somewhere under all of this she was alive. I wondered if she'd have the  
baby, and what would happen if I wasn't around any more. I wasn't disappointed in her  
for falling pregnant, how could I be? It was a shock, that was all. It wasn't her fault was  
it? Just bad luck. All this was just bad luck. But I wouldn't ever get to tell her that. I  
hoped she'd live, and I hoped she'd always know I would have been with her every step of  
the way.  
  
All those wonderful people lay somewhere under this, probably as alone as I was, thinking  
similar things. Under this rubble, amongst this destruction there was still hope, but there  
would also be great tragedy. I suppose I hoped I wouldn't live to see that, because I  
wasn't strong enough to take any more tragedy. I may have been dying, but I sure as hell  
didn't want to take everyone else with me. All those who had so much to live for -  
families, friends, lovers. All those who were so important to me, they had to live.  
  
I wondered how those who lived would cope, how they'd carry on. I couldn't bear the  
thought of all that pain in their lives, or of me being partially at the heart of it. But I felt  
sure they'd survive. They wouldn't have a choice. Survivors don't.  
  
County General Hospital, 10:35am  
  
Blood. That's all there was in the end. No pain, just my own blood, leaking slowly  
through my fingers, soaking my shirt, ebbing my life away. I'd thought I was dying once  
before. I'd been saved that time. Saved to die like this? I sensed it was  
true. I held out little hope that a similar miracle would occur this time around. No ones that  
lucky twice in their life. This was my death. This was it. Life sank away from me slowly,  
dripping into a vivid red pool on the floor. I watched it, helpless but calm. Maybe I was  
too shocked to feel pain. Whatever it was, I was secretly glad of it. I couldn't help myself.  
It wasn't worth trying. There wasn't an ounce of will or care left in my body. Eventually, I  
laid my head down on the cold linoleum floor and gave myself up to death. Sure enough, it  
came, sucking the last breath from my lungs. I didn't feel sad, it was a release.   
  
It wasn't a painful or particularily slow death, nor was it a struggle. There's no point in  
fighting, sometimes it just makes the end all the worse. 


	11. Watching My Life Slip Away

Sorry for the long gap between the writing of recent chapters - I've been unbelieveably  
busy! Anyway, I'm back with further chapters written from the perspective of the dead  
and dying. Hope I haven't lost my touch.   
  
Chapter 11: "Watching My Life Slip Away"  
Luka Kovac, M.D  
  
America was my promised land. I ran to it as a means of escape from the horrors of a past  
I couldn't bear. It worked, for a while. Then slowly but surely, things fell apart again. I  
was a jinx, everything I ever touched turned sour. Valentines Day 2002 proved to be no  
different.   
  
County General, 14/2/02 9:54am  
  
I tried to sneak in unnoticed, difficult as I knew it would be. Weaver noticed everything. I  
wasn't usually late, although my record had slipped lately. I was distracted. It was a  
combination of things - these things always are - but the fundamental reason was the break  
up. The knack I seemed to have of losing everything and everyone I ever loved.   
"Care to explain?"  
I feigned innocence and shrugged.  
"You're late,"  
"Oh,"  
Her voice was like listening to nails scratch down a blackboard. It really grated. It was the  
last thing I needed. She walked away, and I was quite glad of it.  
"She's on the warpath again,"  
I smiled at Halehs offhand comment as she passed. I must have been looking slightly  
bemused. Weaver always was - couldn't live with her, couldn't live without her. I was just  
turning towards the lounge to begin the day proper when I was blown off my feet. It took  
me a second to regain my senses and realise what had happened. It was temporary though,  
because there was a second explosion seconds later. I heard fire begin to rage, masonry  
crashed and crumbled down around me. I didn't realise until the movement stopped that I  
couldn't move. I was impaled, just below my ribcage, but in such a way I couldn't see  
how bad it was. I closed my eyes, to try and shut out this devastating reality.  
"Anyone else there?"  
I knew that voice. How could I mistake it? Even through the coughs that followed, I knew  
it was her. Someone else was alive.   
"Help, help me,"  
It sounded desperate, because it was. I didn't want to do this on my own. I didn't think I  
could. I heard shuffling nearby. I couldn't look because I daren't move, but I knew she  
was going to help me. The relief of having someone else nearby was uncalcuable.  
"It's O.K. It's O.K. It's Abby. I'm here,"  
Something in her slightly panicked tone was still soothing. She was trying reassurance, and  
quite honestly even if I didn't believe it, it was still what I needed to hear.   
"Abby..."  
Speaking wasn't easy, every breath was an increasing effort. I listened intently for other  
signs of life, as Abby fell temporarily silent. I knew I was pinned, I didn't know how bad it  
was, and I didn't know if I wanted to either. All I could hear was fire, distantly, raging  
through whatever was left.  
"Dammit,"  
She cursed quietly aside to herself. I had to ask. She'd seen the wound, and Abby  
wouldn't lie to me. She couldn't.   
"How bad is it?"  
I choked out.  
"Oh, I've seen worse,"  
She said, lightly, in that way she had. Ever the professional. I allowed a small smile to  
cross my face, difficult as it was, just to let her know I appreciated her efforts.   
"You can't feel it can you?"  
I shook my head sadly. She didn't need to tell me what that meant. I sensed her  
helplessness, and it was echoed in me. Mine was a hopeless helplessness and hers just  
frustrating. Did I know I was going to die? Maybe I did, maybe that's why I wasn't  
struggling. I just didn't want to be on my own.   
"What's going on?"  
"I think it was a bomb,"  
She answered matter of factly. That certainly made sense, but why? I knew I'd never  
know. There were others under this with me, I knew there was. I did wonder about them -  
whether they were alive or dead, or dying alone. I couldn't bear the thought. It slowly  
sucked at whatever hope or will I had left.   
"Stay with me, Abby,"  
I implored her. She inched closer, I could sense her presence but couldn't look up into her  
face. I couldn't bear it. I couldn't be alone though and was more glad than she'd ever  
know that she was there for me. She didn't have to be - not after all that had happened  
between us. Her hand sought mine through the masonry and she knotted her fingers  
through mine. Time began to slip away from us, as we remained there just waiting.  
Waiting for salvation - whatever form that would eventually take. Every minute weakened  
me more. I was relieved when I heard the emergency services arrive. She tightened her  
grip on my fingers. She was saved. I wasn't - I knew it in my heart - but she was. It was  
far from over, but help was here. I was confused when they didn't enter the building  
immediately. Come and get her, take this woman to safety...Course I didn't want to die,  
and if they got me out then all the better, but Abby wasn't hurt badly. Abby could make it  
through this. She was always stronger than me. Suddenly, the silence between us felt very  
tense. Was there something she wasn't saying?  
"I've got something I've got to tell you...."  
She paused notably. I struggled to stay awake and listen to her. I could almost tell what it  
was without her saying it. It was instinct - in my case, lightening always strikes the same  
place twice it seems.   
"I don't know if you can hear me. I'm pregnant, 9 weeks,"  
"Mine?"  
I struggled to whisper, then bit my lip, feeling stupid. Of course it was, otherwise why  
would she tell me? Yet another stoke of bad luck for us both. I heard her take a deep  
breath before answering. I'd annoyed her. She mock-scolded me instead, squeezing my  
hand lightly. I could barely feel her touch now.  
"Course yours, idiot!"  
"I'm sorry, Abby,"  
Sorry is such a meaningless word, but it was all I had. This wasn't happening. I was truly  
sorry in that moment. For this whole situation, I was sorry. I was leaving her with my  
child to care for. It gave me greater reason to get through, but I wasn't going to. It broke  
my heart repeatedly in the silence that followed. If I had had the strength to cry I would  
have, but I didn't. I just lay there, growing colder with the thought of my baby never  
knowing its dad.  
"For leaving you alone with my child.."  
I finished momentarily, gasping a little. I couldn't hold on for her, I knew she wanted me  
too, that in that moment I was what mattered to her, but I couldn't. This was too much.  
Death was creeping up on me slowly, getting closer with every minute that passed.   
"Don't say that. You're going nowhere. You'll die an old man, happy and safe, not here,  
not now,"  
The passion in her voice was unmistakable. Abby always was so damned stubborn - even  
with hopeless cases such as myself.   
"Anyone alive in here?"  
I heard her yell for all she was worth. Help must finally be here.   
"Helps here,"  
Abby said hopefully. The nod was weaker. The wound was losing blood by the second and  
there was nothing anyone could do for me anymore. I was a doctor, I knew death.   
"Don't die on me O.K?"  
Defiance pervaded her tone. The fire-fighters were inside the building when the third  
explosion hit. Maybe it was a collapsing wall, but it shook the whole building and masonry  
fell again. A third person joined our conversation  
"Can I move this?"  
The rescue worker asked gently. I guessed then that Abby must herself have been pinned.  
The concrete fell away with a thwack. I saw the firefighter offer Abby his hand, but she  
crouched over me protectively. Stones rained down again and it was imperative she went  
now. It literally was now or never for her.  
"Abby. Don't die for me,"  
I whispered weakly but heroically. Don't dare stay, Abby, I'll never forgive you. Don't  
you dare die for me. I'm not worth it and you know it, I thought angrily.  
"You're going to live,"  
She was trying not to cry, I saw it in her face for the first time. I could see her face, and  
look directly into her tired eyes. I breathed out heavily, my breathing ever more laboured  
by the second.   
"No, Abby, I'm not. Save yourself, please,"  
"I can't leave you,"  
I loved her once. This woman, clinging so desperately to what's left of my life, more  
desperately than even I am, this woman who's proved to be a bigger believer in hope than  
I could have imagined. I love her still, but differently. This is about her and my baby. I  
don't want her to leave, don't want to spend my last seconds alone, but I can't be selfish.  
She has to go. I won't let her stay. I tried to tell her this with my gaze but she ignored my  
pleas, turning her head away from me.  
"I don't want to leave you either, but go please,"  
The choked whisper was desperate. She turned back to me one last time and I saw she'd  
made her decision. She lowered her head to mine and kissed my cheek lightly. I could  
barely feel it, but it was a defining moment.  
"I love you,"  
It was almost imperceptible, but I felt it. Death was lurking nearby, and it took me quickly  
in the end. I just closed my eyes and it was over. 


	12. I'm Not Scared

Chapter Twelve: "I'm Not Scared"  
Cleo Finch, M.D  
  
There's not much in this life which can truly scare me. I'm not someone who frightens easily. Dying is the only thing I've ever feared, but I've never truly felt my life threatened.. I've always been strong. Some things, however, require a strength I'm afraid not even I know. The curse of Valentines Day last year, for example. How was I to know that this time lightening would strike twice.....?  
  
County General, 14/2/02 9:55am  
  
I thought idly about the job offer I'd recieved this morning. I wondered if anyone in this  
place would really miss me once I was gone. It was too good an oppurtunity to pass up  
and I knew my ambition wouldn't let me. I watched time go by in this place as I had so  
many days before now, but it seemed like I was really seeing it all for the first time. Just  
how busy everyone always was, the pace of life in an urban trauma center. It really was as  
brutal as I was warned it would be. I thought it was what I wanted, and for a while I think  
it suited me, but somewhere over the last three years my prorities have changed. I was still  
ambitious as hell and stubborn with it, as anyone will tell you, but my ambitions were now  
taking me in a different direction to that which brought me to County in the first place.  
I was really looking forward to a new start. Doesn't everyone? Change did frighten me, I  
don't like being the new girl, but it was a chance to start over. A chance to settle down.   
  
The decorated Admit desk is a poignant reminder of the date. Hardly something to be  
celebrated in this ER, being as it is the anniversary. But I wanted to celebrate it   
nonetheless. I didn't believe in it for a long time. That's something else about me that's  
changed. Was I in love? Yes, I think I was. I felt as if this is where I was supposed to be -  
my destiny was with him. And Rees is just a bonus - a more adorable kid you couldn't  
hope for. I was only too aware of how fragile happiness is but I was determined to enjoy it  
for now. I had such high hopes for my future and not just professionally. I was so tangled  
up in these thoughts that the explosion barely registered. It wasn't until I opened my eyes  
to dust filled air and darkness that I realised what had happened. It jolted through me and  
my first instinct was escape. Get me out of here, I pleaded. I had only seconds before there  
was a second larger blast. My hands covered my eyes. I didn't want to see this. If I didn't  
see it then it wasn't real. The longer I hid from it, the less real it was.   
  
County General 10:10am  
  
I wasn't aware I'd passed out. Not at all in fact, but I had. Fire rages somewhere nearby,  
too nearby for my liking. Fingers of heat stroke the side of my face. I turned my head  
away sharply. It's the only movement I can make. I realised that suddenly. I'm trapped. I  
tried to cry and scream as loud as possible - I wanted attention, I wanted out. It's not  
useless. Nothing is ever hopeless. When it's your life on the line, do you ever give up  
hope?   
  
Then I screamed because of a new sensation. Once the adrenaline ebbed away, it was  
replaced by pain. Pain so intense, so vivid it seared itself into my very being. I couldn't  
seperate from it - it is me. I couldn't locate any one source, it was all over. And I was  
frightened, so scared. I just wished there was someone else there, someone who would  
help me. I wanted reassurance so much, the reassurance I'd offered my whole career to  
other people. When I needed it though, there was no one there.   
  
I won't die here. I won't die like this. I'm a survivor. I don't deserve this. I don't deserve  
this pain. Please let me live, please let me get out of this. However slim the chances were  
of me actually getting out of here, I held onto the hope.   
  
Alongside the pain and the desperation, I suppose there was also anger and hate. There  
was so many things flowing in me, beating like thousands of fists, it was hard to  
distinguish one from the other. I don't remember a time in my life I ever felt more alive,  
more aware than I did then. It's the oddest feeling.   
  
Things you take for granted every day, like breathing and movement, suddenly seemed  
like minor miracles. Every time I took a breath, I thanked God. It was a struggle - the air  
was clogged with dust and fumes - but as long as I kept fighting there was a chance. I  
couldn't see what was pinning me, but it was flat across my pelvis. I wouldn't have  
wanted to see it.   
  
Anger, yes, anger. That pitiful why me feeling I despise in other people. Anger at whoever  
or whatever has done this to us. To us. This isn't just about me, this is also about the man  
I love and his beautiful, traumatised son. I tried not to think about other people, about  
how people would carry on after this, without me, because I was trying to stay convinced  
it wouldn't happen. I couldn't imagine their life without me, because I was praying that it  
wasn't going to have to exist.   
  
County General, 10:22am  
  
Alone. So alone. So hard to breathe, choking, gasping. Lungs filled with blood and dust,  
no room for air. Pain. In my bones and in my veins, all through my ruined body. Intense  
pain, screaming for attention. I couldn't scream though. My leg was snapped at the femur,  
my pelvis crushed under something. It was heavy, it was immoveable. It was all that was  
stopping me exsanguinating. Horrible way to die. Painful way to die, alone. Help should  
come, help will come. Just hold on, hold on, hold on.   
  
Help isn't coming. They aren't going to save me. They won't get me out. This is death. I  
was staring the thing I feared most in the world in the face and I was so angry. It wasn't  
supposed to end this way. I'm young yet. It's hopeless to try to hold onto life in that kind  
of pain, but I did. Clinging with fingertips to some vain hope of a miracle.   
  
It isn't supposed to end like this. Please, please God. I prayed desperately, bargaining for  
my life. But the icy fingers of death were playing up my spine, and I knew it was  
inevitable. It crept slowly into my muscles, paralysing me slowly, before crushing my still  
beating heart in its lethal grip. I was aware of the pain, the suffocation as my heart slowed  
steadily to a standstill, my lungs fatally constricted.   
  
I never lay down to death. I fought till the end. No one would have expected any less of  
me.   
  
  
Author's note: I'd like people's opinions on whether they want to read any more. Its almost as emotionally exhausting writing this as it is reading it - I particularily hated writing Abby's/Carter's and Luka's chapters - I found them the most upsetting to visualise, but I appreciate how well it has been recieved. It makes it worth it. 


	13. Shades Of Grey

Sorry for the delay - been moving house and sitting exams. I think this is the weakest chapter so far - I find Weaver difficult to write but it would be wrong to leave her out.   
  
Chapter 13: "Shades Of Grey"  
Kerry Weaver, M.D  
  
I was trying not to face them, trying not to look either of them in the eye. I knew I was as  
in the wrong as they both had been. If I hadn't been overruled, neither of them would be  
there - a tension and a weight I felt only too heavy. They hated me and I didn't blame  
them. I couldn't ignore her though. Jing-Mei - the thorn in my side.  
"Glad to be back?"  
It sounded sarcastic, defensive. I turned to watch her, waiting for a response, any  
response.   
"Yeah, I am,"  
Course she was. She'd oneupped me, and there was a slightly superior note in her voice. I  
looked from her to him and back down again, quickly noting the expressions on both their  
faces. What exactly could I do or say to lift this emotional pall? No apology of mine would  
make any difference to the single-minded twosome who stood before me. All I could say  
would make me seem more bitter than I already did. I saw them head for the door and was  
secretly relieved, but only momentarily. My back hit the floor, and shock richoceted  
through my body before I passed into unconciousnes. It again lasted only seconds. I woke  
up and looked around, seeing the carnage and for virtually the first time ever I panicked. I  
tried to move but resigned myself to failure. I realised I couldn't feel my legs, nothing  
below my waist. This was a bad dream, it had to be.  
"Hello!"  
I heard a desperate cry, an anyone please answer me plea. I had to answer, had to let her  
know I was alive. How alive I couldn't be sure, but alive. I felt oddly disembodied - I had  
my voice but it was the only part of my body I had any control over.  
"Jing-Mei, is that you?"  
I answered, my voice catching on the dust in my throat. I couldn't sense her movement,  
my vision was blocked by debris and I honestly daren't move.  
"Kerry?"  
"Yes. Are you hurt?"  
If she wasn't, she could get out of here and get help. Was I thinking about myself or her?  
Well, both. Human nature to want to live isn't it? I did hope Jing-Mei was alright, I  
wouldn't wish her any harm, but my primary thought was 'get me out'.  
"Not badly. Chests tight but I'll live. You?"  
Typical of her. The ultimate survivor. How could I answer? I didn't know.  
"Don't think so,"  
I was. I knew I was, although I couldn't pinpoint where or how. It was best to say no and  
allow her to concentrate on other things.  
"Can you move?"  
She asked. I scrabbled against the wood and plaster around me momentarily, although  
deep down I knew it was hopeless. I wasn't aware of a struggle to breathe, though it  
probably seemed insignificant compared to the situation.  
"Kind of,"  
I answered, defeated. I couldn't see her, but I could imagine the expression on her face.  
"Anyone else in this room, can you remember?"  
They'd both been moving. Had he gotten out or had he been caught on the move? I hadn't  
been paying close enough attention.  
"Dave, I think,"  
I answered, choking slightly as the fumes snagged in my mouth. I wished I could see what  
was going on. I hated this powerlessness. Frustration added to everything else in me. I  
waited a few seconds for any response.  
"Is he there?"  
I asked, my voice getting smaller, all I had left of me slipping away too. She didn't answer  
and not knowing was beginning to irritate me. There was nothing I could so, and it was  
grating. I wanted out.  
"Is he there?"  
I repeated, clearer, more determined.  
"Yes, yes, he's here,"  
"Is he alive?"  
I had to ask. If this had killed, metaphorically right before my eyes at least, I had ever  
more reason to live. I did hope he was living. I wasn't that heartless. I knew somewhere in  
this there would be great tragedy and pain, but still my escape mechanism forced me to  
believe I would get through it. Maybe I was fooling myself but it was safer that way.  
"Yes. He's alive,"  
She didn't sound very sure. I didn't respond immeadiately. Not because I didn't care, but  
because I didn't know what to say. I couldn't see, couldn't view just exactly the situation.  
"Can you help him?"  
"Not here. I can barely see him,"  
There was a tinge of frustration in her voice. She would if she could, I knew that. I felt the  
rubble around me shift slightly, and I knew what was happening instinctively.  
"Jing-Mei,"  
I let out all my energy in one anguished cry. The rubble shifted again, making my  
breathing space ever smaller.  
"Kerry,"  
I heard her call to me. It had only been over me, she was still conscious.  
"Please. Get help. Save yourself, Jing-Mei, or we'll all die,"  
Save yourself and help save me. Get us all out. Breathing was noticeably more difficult  
and I was panicking again now.  
"It's on my to do list, Kerry,"  
I don't blame her for being sharp with me. She was obviously tense and I doubted she  
wanted to die like this either.  
"Go, Jing-Mei,"  
I cried out again, more urgently, competing with an ear-splitting crack overhead. I feared  
the worse, envisioned the worse, but soon they were only visions. Of a feeble weakened  
body and a disembodied, disorientated mind. The fire I wasn't aware of. I didn't worry  
about anything else - couldn't fight the fevered nightmares, couldn't fight the apathy I felt  
as systems inside me shut down.  
  
I was rescued, I know that because I didn't die alone. I could sense someone else there,  
even if I didn't or couldn't acknowledge it. I never walked, talked or ever woke up again.  
I wasn't aware of dying, when it came. It felt perfectly natural, slipping away. After all my  
feverish nightmares, it just seemed like the dream I'd been waiting for. And it was just like  
waking up. 


	14. Only Human

O.K, so asides of the usual disclaimers, I'd also like to add I know there may be continuity difficulties with this chapter, but I needed a survivor who was involved, and who I had some clue as to how to write them. It was still difficult to I apologise for any bad characterisation, and stretching the bounds of probability a little.  
  
Chapter Fourteen: "Only Human"  
Robert Romano, M.D  
  
I wasn't in County General on the 14th of February 2002. I wasn't even in Chicago. Only  
God knows how grateful, yet how sorry, I am that was the case. I'd left the previous  
evening, for a medical conference in LA. I was still on the schedules, but the staff knew I  
wasn't there. It had all been a bit last minute. It was about 11am that day, and I was sitting  
in another lecture hall in another super modern 21st century hospital so far removed from  
my own it made County look prehistoric. I wasn't really paying attention. I got the  
horrible feeling I'd heard all this before somewhere. However much I like to think the  
bland, bueraucratic men in this room weren't like me, I knew deep down that the  
similarities of our jobs made us similar inside. It all seemed so far removed from the  
reasons I entered medicine long years ago.   
"Dr Romano..."  
There's a pause. I stare into space, unawares.  
"Robert..."  
The tone was sharper this time and I noticed it and looked at the source of the noise.  
"There's a phonecall,"  
The messenger looked very nervous, almost downcast. I rose, feeling the disapproving  
glares of my fellow professionals at the interruption. I was secretly relieved, but something  
in me couldn't help being worried. For the first time ever, I had had a bad feeling about  
leaving the hospital. I only wish that bad feeling hadn't been proved correct. They  
wouldn't interrupt me for just anything though, they knew better. I was handed the phone  
almost as soon as I reached the reception desk.  
"Robert Romano,"  
I hear a deep almost pensive breath on the other end of the line.  
"We have some news, concerning County General,"  
"Who am I speaking to?"  
"That doesn't matter. Switch on the TV and you'll see what I mean,"  
I gestured at the confused receptionist to switch on the TV, slightly baffled by the  
phonecall. As soon as I saw the images on screen, the phone and my mind went dead. My  
heart sank. It took a minute for the pictures to form a complete story and longer to link  
them to the horror of the words I could hear. I watched as the receptionists mouth fell  
slowly open, and the messenger - who looked like a porter - shuffled against the carpet.  
The silence was overpowering. It began to sink in, and I realised they were expecting  
action from me, but what? I was in LA, thousands of miles away from the flaming carnage  
I could see. I addressed the receptionist, attempting to swallow whatever fear and panic I  
was feeling.   
"Get me the number for Chicagos fire department,"  
I demanded quickly, taking a deep breath and finishing instantly, never completely  
removing my eyes from the TV screen. I knew I'd see those pictures for years to come,  
but yet I couldn't break away.  
"And book me on the next flight back there,"  
I had to go back. I had to be there. I've never been surer of anything in my whole life.  
****  
Minutes later, and I was on the phone to the Fire Department Chief. He was on scene,  
looking at what I could only see through the impersonal eyes of the TV cameras,  
explaining to me the events of the morning in precise architectural detail. I knew he was  
delibarately skirting the real issues, and it was increasingly frustrating. He was watching  
people living and dying and I needed to know. Buildings are only brick and mortar after  
all. Anyone who knew me would probably be stunned by my reactions, but it wasn't  
exactly something we faced every day. My instinct, leadership, spirit and humour had all  
failed me. I was only human.  
"What about casualties?"  
I cut across him sharply, and waited in the tense hush of the hallway. This would be right  
across America, if not the world by now. The scale was quite incredible.   
"We don't know. It could take days till we know for sure,"  
There was a hopeless but honest tone in his voice.   
"And survivors?"  
"Two conscious, two injured,"  
Four? Four people? Was that all?   
"Who?"  
It sounded emotional because it was.  
"I don't have names,"  
"How did this happen?"  
I asked in disbelief, not wanting or expecting an answer.  
"I'm just doing my job,"  
He said with a note of sadness in his voice. The phone went dead and slowly I hung up. I  
had to wonder who'd gotten out, no matter how tortuous it was. I wanted to know who'd  
died under that rubble - an untimely and likely painful end. I'd spoken to, or more  
correctly, rowed with Elizabeth this morning, before the conference began. I wasn't even  
sure I knew about what, couldn't pin down the specifics, but I knew what guilt felt like.  
What if she hadn't made it?  
****  
It was everywhere, all I wanted to do was get back to Chicago. I was useless here. I didn't  
know what I'd do back there, but at least I could find out the details. But I couldn't turn a  
corner without seeing it. Even here, everything was dead. People were silent, still. That  
just made it worse. It's like the whole nation died under that rubble, really, it's quite eerie.  
They don't know me, or my connection to County, so they acknowledge me with the  
same solemn nods they do each other. Workers carry on working, albeit very subdued. It  
isn't mentioned. Until it's confirmed what caused this, I don't think anyone will.   
"Not the safest destination today, so I hear,"  
I tried to ignore the man seated next to me, but it was difficult. He sounded awkward and  
nervous. I tried to set my expression in stone and remain emotionless, but knowing that in  
a few hours I would be face to face with the catastrophe was eating away at me slowly, a  
cold knawing dread in the pit of my stomach.  
"That explosion and all, pretty scary huh?"  
It was everywhere. Everyone know. Not everyone knew it though, knew the people. It  
was pretty scary, I admitted, in fact it was downright terrifying. I nodded slowly, unwilling  
to engage him in conversation, but too polite to ignore him completely.  
"So why you headed to the Windy city?"  
He asked, settling back and fastening his seatbelt. My eyes focussed firmly on the headrest  
of the seat in front, I formulated an unemotional answer.  
"I work at County General. You?"  
It came out wrong, clipped and terse. The shock took a moment to register, because I  
heard a small gasp.  
"Isn't that...?"  
He stuttered slowly, sounding a little awed.  
"Yes,"  
I answered firmly. Finally silence fell. There was no answer. Nothing he could think of to  
say, but I felt his pity burn into me. I didn't need it, it was all much worse under scrutiny.  
The words alive or dead were spinning in my head like a lottery, around pictures of my  
colleagues. Not knowing truly is the worst kind of knowledge.   
****  
It was a short internal flight but it felt like forever. It was tortuous. Life wasn't normal and  
it felt wrong to pretend it was. Feaer lay behind the stewardesses false smiles and bright  
eyes. No one can hide anything from me - a fact Lizzie knows only too well. Lizzie. Peter.  
God, I even cared about my ER kooks. Strange though I thought they were, harm I  
wished them not.   
The taxi got stopped at every red light between Midway and County and it increasingly  
frustrating, so near and yet so far. I looked at my watch. 5pm. 6 hours since the explosion.  
If they weren't out by now, they wouldn't get out.  
"Bad business this,"  
The taxi driver said, looking at me in the rearview mirror. I was in no mood for  
conversation, so I nodded impatiently.  
"Never thought I'd see it on my own doorstep,"  
He continued unawares. It was falling dark when we drew up outside County's ambulance  
bay. It was a mass of smoke, water and flashing lights. It was confusingly noisy and busy,  
even for someone who usually copes well under stress. Wordlessly, I climbed out,  
clutching my bag in one hand, my knuckles completely bloodless. I turned into the bay,  
staring at my feet and trying to summon up the courage. After a few seconds, I took a  
deep breath and looked up, knowing I could face this head on even if it destroyed me.I  
thought I was strong enough, I really did. What I saw knocked me flat. I literally couldn't  
breathe. It takes a lot to make me truly lose it but I did in that moment. My vision blurred  
and it took me a minute to realise it was tears. I didn't know whether to think God for the  
conference or curse it. I supposed that reaction normal.  
Viciously, I scrubbed away my moist eyes and regaining my composure slightly, accosted  
the next passing person.  
"Where'd they take the survivors?"  
I asked brusquely. What a mess! Who did this? What bastard did this to us?   
"Northwestern,"  
The poor guy looked mildly frightened. Right, I was going there then. What could I do  
here other than capitulate and that wasn't constructive at all was it? 


	15. Everybody's Somebody

O.K. So, I know nothing about medicine, something which might become blatantly obvious in this chapter, but I've done my best.   
  
Chapter 15 "Everybody's Somebody"  
Robert Romano, M.D  
  
I arrived in Northwestern's ER about a half-hour later. Victims in various stages of  
treatment were everywhere, all with the same vacant, dazed look in their eyes. Dr Graham  
Morton, ER attending, was the only one able to take time out to talk to me, and only  
because I ran into him in the hallway.  
"Are you O.K?"  
He looked at me, puzzled no doubt by my distraction.  
"The bombing. Survivors..were brought here."  
I managed to form a complete, if nonsensical, sentence.  
"Yes. Are you a relative?"  
Relatives? Shit, I hadn't even thought about that yet.  
"No...No, I'm Dr Robert Romano, chief of staff at County,"  
He looked suddenly enlightened and shook my hand.   
"Yes, of course,"  
My reputation precedes me, I know, get over the awe stupid boy.  
"We've been expecting you,"  
He led me away, toward the treatment rooms I assumed. I scoured the halls, desperate for  
a familiar face but finding none. Don't let me be the ony one, I cried inside, I couldn't  
cope. He talked to me as we walked.  
"We've had 8 survivors from the wreckage, not including the walking wounded,"  
"And the death toll?"  
"Three so far,"  
I nodded. I couldn't even give them an accurate record of who'd been in, all my schedules  
had burned with my empty office. I pictured how it would have been to have been there,  
trapped and burning to death and it was a truly hideous image.  
"Exam 1...Abby Lockhart,"  
He pushed aside the heavy swing door. The pretty little brunette was sleeping, her skin  
gashed and ugly, her leg in a cast. I picked up her chart and scanned it quickly. She'd been  
lucky considering. I didn't know as I watched her at peace, if she felt the same way.  
"She's pregnant?"  
I looked up at him, slightly surprised.   
"She should have miscarried. She still could,"  
Somewhere, somehow, I hoped not. She couldn't take it. No - one could after this. I  
clipped the chart back over the bed end and the resident led me onwards.  
"Exam 3..Jing -"  
"Mei,"  
I finished. She weas conscious, her face white against a shock of black hair. She sat  
awkwardly, both hands and legs covered in bandages. I saw the same distance on her face  
as on the walking wounded.  
"Robert,"  
She whispered, still slightly overwhelmed I sensed.  
"How are you?"  
Graham took a step back and let me speak. I couldn't move any closer to her. Nothing  
could bridge the gulf between us.  
"O.K, considering, I guess,"  
A lot was bubbling under in her, I could sense. A lot of the same anger I felt.  
"What happened to your hands?"  
She closed her eyes and fell silent.  
"Third degree burns, and her legs too."  
He paused.  
"She's sedated too,"  
Graham whispered. I nodded. She was usually fiesty, even vicious.  
"How are the others?"  
She asked suddenly. I looked her dead in the eye and saw impending tragedy that neither  
of us could avoid. Graham swallowed loudly and spoke as calmly as he could.  
"Abby's alright - double fracture tib-fib but otherwise reasonably unharmed. Elizabeth  
Corday had a few breathing difficulties but stabilised without an intubation. We're  
observing her closely, but otherwise it seems she sustained only a few cuts and couple of  
cracked ribs. Peter Benton require O2 for smoke inhalation, and had a hand lac, but was  
otherwise unharmed."  
Graham paused. Jing-Mei's eyes were downcast, trying to take it all in.Lizzie was alright.  
It really was a huge relief - I couldn't bear to lose her. She was such a special woman. My  
heart was in less of a vice, but still knew the worst was to come.  
"Jerry Markovic suffered two bad lacerations to his face, but he was wandering around  
last I saw. Kerry Weaver is alive but only just. She was redlined to neurosurgery, and will  
be in the ICU after surgery. She also sustained a nasty spinal fracture. Lily Jarvik survived  
emergency surgery but is on life support upstairs...."  
He stopped. My stomach tied in knots. That couldn't be it. He said 8.  
"Shirley Gordon is still in surgery, but looked the strongest of the three who came in  
together."  
I ran through the staff but my mind was horribly blank. Who hadn't he mentioned?  
Jing-Mei met my eyes but spoke to Graham.  
"Dave?"  
He nodded slowly.  
"The worst by far. 55% full thickness. You're both doctors - so I can be frank - I don't  
see him making tomorrow, let alone a long term recovery,"  
I'd never seen anyone with that severity of injury pull through but that didn't mean it  
didn't happen. I tried to hold onto a miracle, but I didn't believe in them. Jing Mei cried  
then, I wouldn't know till later why, she unashamedly broke down. I would have held  
her, I wanted to, but I wasn't sure I was of any great comfort to her.  
"Do you want to be alone?"  
I asked gently. Her head shook.  
"I want to know who died,"  
She said through gritted teeth. I had an awful list forming in my head, far too long for me  
to bear and containing the names of some of the best doctors I'd ever known. I nodded,  
encouraging Graham to continue the morbid bedtime story.  
"Haleh Adams was DOA, she coded in the rig. Cleo Finch was pulled out, but she was  
dead long before she got here - crush injuries to pelvis and lower back. John Carter was  
found, but he too had already died - excessive blood loss from a deep neck wound,"  
I couldn't help but feel the bitter irony bite. A year ago to the day, he'd lived and Lucy,  
under my care, had died. Lightening, it seemed, did indeed strike twice. Jing-Mei looked  
startled, rigid. I couldn't bear her pain as well as my own and looked away. Graham  
sounded very sad. It wasn't news anyone wanted to break.  
"The third body they pulled from the wreckage was Luka Kovac. We wouldn't have been  
able to put him back together if if he'd gotten out sooner. Impaled - kidney, colon, liver,  
spleen and spinal damage. He was a train wreck to be honest. It's more merciful he died  
without unnecessary interference,"  
"What about Mark Greene?"  
The words were out before I thought. There was a pause.  
"We don't know,"  
"Don't know?"  
"Marks missing, Robert,"  
Chen said frankly. He was dead. No one was alive under there now. It just wasn't  
possible.  
"Do you want me to stay?"  
I asked the younger resident.  
"Go. Go see Lizzie. I'll be O.K,"  
She wouldn't say yes, even if she'd wanted to. Chen was a fighter, but this might just be  
the one she was destined to lose.  
****  
I couldn't face Lizzie. Knowing she was O.K was enough for now. I couldn't see her in all  
that pain. I walked into the hallway, dazed by what I'd just heard and not entirely sure wat  
my next move should be. It just seemed to be chaos and how could you make any sense  
out of this? How could anyone? I stood there for a moment, before I saw another dreaded  
black bag. It was past my eyes almost before I realised.   
  
Then my next course of action was decided. I descended towards the hospital mortuary,  
knowing I probably wouldn't find anything there I didn't already know. I showed my  
County ID to the assistant, who looked doubtful, but spoke anyway.  
"They've just brought in another body,"  
He said slowly, looking slightly suspicious at my percieved interference.   
"Do they know who it is?"  
"Are you here to ID them?"  
What a horrific idea. I couldn't, not yet. I probably would have to, in the end.  
"No..No, I'm just looking for someone,"  
I said quickly. I was inexplicably looking for Mark. So if I did go to Elizabeth, I would at  
least have some purpose to it, something to say even if I did end her world.  
"They haven't looked yet, the paramedics looked pretty shocked though,"  
"Shocked?"  
"Use your imagination, Dr, 6 hours in flaming rubble would probably do something pretty  
horrible to the body,"  
I knew instinctively who this body would prove to be, though I said nothing to the  
mortuary attendant. He spoke honestly, something people would later in this saga avoid. I  
didn't need to see the body after that, I had no need of it. The pictures of the carcass that  
might be all that was left were too vivid, and for the first time in my medical career I  
wanted to vomit. That was someone's husband. Someone's father.   
"I'm sorry..."  
He muttered, seeing the look of disbelief and confusion flit over my face. He was. It was  
horror we'd all wish we'd never had to see. 


	16. The Waiting Game

Author's note: I'm sorry this is taking so long now - I'm working pretty long hours and  
moving house and there's really not been a great amount of time. Anyway, here's chapter  
16, this time moving onto the family members. I don't any of the characters used or named in this chapter, except Kate.  
  
Again, I apologise for any timing flaws, or inaccuracies in anything described in the next  
two chapters, I do my best to get things right.  
  
Chapter 16 "The Waiting Game"  
Rachel Greene  
  
What does Valentines Day mean to a modern teenager? To me, very little. I didn't celebrate it, I barely even noticed it. We're a very cynical generation, and I prided myself on being more jaded than most. Nobody involved knew when they woke up on the morning of Valentines Day 2002 that they'd have a day they'd never forget for all the wrong reasons. I certainly wish now I hadn't woken up that day.   
  
Rachels' school, 14/2/02, 11:25am  
  
The teacher caught my shoulder as I was leaving class and turned me to face her. I was  
slightly annoyed to begin with, it was recess and I was going to talk to my friends for the  
first time today. In addition, I needed a cigarette. It was safe to say I was reasonably on  
edge. I thought I was in for another row, and wondered idly what I had done this  
time.   
"Rachel,"  
There was something instinctively worrying in the concerned tone. This wasn't about late  
homework or cutting class. This went deeper, and I felt my heart skip a beat, imagining all  
the awful things she could possibly say to me.  
"There's something you should know,"  
She perched on the edge of the desk and I noticed she was trembling a little as she spoke.  
I questioned her with my gaze, and noticed her eyes duck to avoid mine.  
"There was an explosion, about an hour ago,"  
She said, choking slightly. I looked at the floor intently, biting the inside of my cheek to  
detract from the tears that were stinging my eyes ominously. This was worse than I could  
have imagined. Never in my worst nightmares had I envisioned that was what she was  
going to say to me.   
"It was at County General,"  
She hadn't actually had to say it, because something in me already knew. I blinked to clear  
my vision, and tried to seem strong. I was trying to keep up appearances.   
"This is about my dad isn't it?"  
She nodded slowly. He and Elizabeth had both been working today. Ella had been up all  
night, and both of them had been extremely cranky when they went to work this morning.  
I hadn't seen them before they left, because they'd both started before I was up. I had a  
nagging feeling I'd live to regret that.   
"They haven't found him yet,"  
I looked at my watch, barely registering that it was 11:30am. I felt my knees weaken  
suddenly, and my hand reached for the edge of the desk in desperation. I needed to keep  
myself upright, and face this head on.  
"O.K,"  
I murmured. I sensed the eye of a terrible storm heading straight for the centre of my life,  
and with no possible shelter in sight. A hand rested lightly on my shoulder.  
"There's a cab waiting to take you home,"  
I nodded. I was guided down the crowded hallways. There was a respectful, hushed  
silence and I felt the burning, curious stares. Above that, I felt the pity I knew would  
become a fixture in my life, and I knew I couldn't bear it. There and then the weight  
became too much. I felt fresh air touch my skin and looked up. I swallowed hard and took  
a deep breath. This was like knowingly walking straight into a brick wall, but I knew there  
was no other way through.  
  
DuPont Drive, 14/2/02, 11:55am  
  
Kate, the childminder, was waiting on the front steps when I drew up outside the house.  
Her face was etched with concern. Ella played quietly next to her. I admired my baby  
sisters innocence, but resented it at the same time.  
"Rachel,"  
She said quietly, a tone that suggested she was almost awed. I don't think she knew what else to say. I looked up at her, trying to seem confident, strong even. I brushed a stray hair and stray tear from my cheek.  
"Can I do anything? Do you need anything?"  
She asked frantically, following me inside. She fussed over me as she usually did Ella. I  
stood in the hallway of our family home. My stomach was tied in knots, a cold fist of fear  
and dread that this was the end of life as I knew it. I just stood there, frozen, and literally saw  
my world come crashing to a halt.  
"Have you heard anything? Is Elizabeth alright?"  
Kate shook her head sadly.   
"I've got the news on, but they aren't saying much about survivors. There's a helpline  
though,"  
"Did you ring it?"  
I demanded impatiently. Of course she would have. She cared too much, worried too much sometimes. Kate unfolded a tiny scrap of paper  
from her pocket.  
"I tried, but it was engaged. Do you want to?"  
She offered me the paper. I couldn't. I just couldn't. I looked at Ella suddenly, and then  
back at Kate. She nodded, understanding.  
"I'll do it,"  
She whispered, shifting the infants weight onto her hip.  
"Pretend you're me. I'll take Ella,"  
My sister came to me calmly, as if she could sense something was wrong. She rested her  
blonde head lightly on my shoulder. I began to pace the kitchen, stroking her back gently  
for reassurance, for comfort I'd always have her even if we both lost everything else.  
  
DuPont Drive, 14/2/02, 12:14pm  
  
Kate turned to me the minute she put the phone down, such sadness but still a sliver of  
hope in her eyes. I could barely look at her, and she spoke slowly.  
"Elizabeth's alright. She's alive. They don't have any news on Mark,"  
So Ella still had a mother at least, but we didn't yet know if either of us had a father. I  
couldn't bring myself to imagine his death. I'd been such a selfish, horrible bitch to him  
recently, and I needed to apologise. I had to get that chance. I had to tell him I loved him.  
My heart sunk like a stone, heavy with grief and guilt, as I wondered if I'd ever get the  
chance.  
"What do you want to do?"  
I shrugged. I guess we just have to wait. I just have to wait. Wait for my life to crash  
around my ears. Wait and hold onto slim hope. I sank down against the wall in the  
hallway, and rested my head on my knees. Ella toddled away from me back to Kate.   
"We could go and see Elizabeth..."  
Kate suggested unhelpfully. I shook my head, screwing my eyes shut and trying to block  
out this horror, to forget this pain. I heard footsteps walk away and the living room door  
closed. I was alone. I supposed, fearing the worst, that I might have to get used to that  
feeling.   
  
I was too numb to cry, too shocked to feel pain. It was a helpless feeling, but all I could  
do was wait. I prayed as hard as I could that when the phone rang, it would be with good  
news. And when it wasn't, I had to wake up to a completely new reality. 


	17. Desperate Times

Chapter 17 "Desperate Times"  
Rachel Greene  
  
My funeral outfit hangs ominously on the front of my wardrobe, a hellish reminder of what  
I went through yesterday. I'm keeping it there for now, to keep this whole nightmarish  
reality in focus. It keeps the pain real, and I need that. Otherwise I wouldn't believe this  
had happened to me.   
  
I look at it, and it sears into my memory like a branding iron, all the pity and all the  
sympathy I saw yesterday. Everyone would like to think they know what I'm going  
through, but they don't have a clue. I glance down at the blade in my hand. It gleams in  
the pale light, a cold sharp wicked glint.   
  
I'm alone in my room. Elizabeth is through in the nursery with Ella, who's been fractious  
at night recently. She knows something is wrong, but she just can't ask. I can't even bear  
to hold my baby sister. She's so painfully innocent. Elizabeth doesn't cope well with being  
by herself, so she's focussing all attention on Ella. She's using her child to get through  
this. Her daughter needs her, and through that she lives. I don't even have that. I don't  
have anything to keep me going. It doesn't feel that this is worth fighting through. It just  
doesn't feel worth the struggle.  
  
I don't have any tears left to cry anymore. I know that sounds like a cliche, but I've cried  
myself to sleep every night since it happened. I didn't cry at the funeral yesterday. People  
looked at me strangely, as if they expected me to be weaker than that. I don't like public  
outpourings of grief. It would have embarrassed me. This is a private emotion, this is a  
private time.  
  
I'm glad in a way the pressure of the funeral is off us now, but it still leaves me with a hell  
of a lot to cope with for a 15 year old. His face is still the first thing I see when I close my  
eyes. His picture is tattoed on my eyelids - accusing me every night, torturing me again for  
all the things I never said. It makes everything all too stark. Everything I did have and now  
don't.   
  
I can't believe it's been three weeks since the building blew up. That's exactly what  
happened, I've talked to Elizabeth about it. They didn't get a warning or anything. No-one  
stood a chance. I hate whoever did this to me. I hate the person who inflicted this on me.  
Their reasoning, their motives don't matter a jot to me, or to the families of the other  
innocents they killed. But truthfully I don't think that they will catch who did this.   
  
They had to identify dad by his dental records. That alone is a hard enough picture for me  
to deal with. He wasn't found for 6 hours after the blast, and they later told us he'd been  
at the epicentre. He'd died instantly. All that time I was hoping, praying he'd live so I  
could tell him how much he meant to me, he was actually dead and gone. I lost him long  
before they pulled him out the rubble, and that was harder to swallow. Those 5 hours now  
seem horribly lost, horribly pointless.  
  
My whole life has become this same black hole. This pit that's swallowed me up. I look up  
and I can see light again, but it's only a pin prick. I know that's a stupid analogy, but I  
can't think of another way to describe this without using the dreaded word. Depression.  
Elizabeth's suffering from a form of it, I'm sure, but she's denying it.  
  
I haven't been back to school yet. I don't think they're wondering about that yet though,  
because they haven't called. Kate left, two days afterwards when Elizabeth was released  
from hospital, she went back to her family in New York. I think she realised the brevity of  
life and I don't blame her for not wanting to be around this empty family home at the  
moment.   
  
I hated my life the way it was before this happened, but now I'd give anything in the world  
to have it back. Anything's easier than this. I would give anything to have another row  
with him, because at least then I knew he was alive.   
  
My thumb traces along my forearm gently, and I imagine what I would feel if I used the  
razor. I wonder how it would feel, whether it would hurt, or whether it would just be the  
outlet I didn't have through tears anymore. Closing my eyes, blotting out the shame just  
for the second it takes to slice into my skin, it's just like letting go.   
  
I don't look down at the gash, but I can feel the warm liquid running from the edges over  
my skin and down onto the blanket. I want to know where all this went wrong, Dad, I  
want to know why you've driven me to this. My body is weeping for me, and I don't have  
to cry anymore. 


	18. Can't Lose What You Never Had

Author's note: Apologies for the delay in updating, been so busy. Hope this chapter makes sense and people are still interested.  
  
Chapter 18: "Can't Lose What You Never Had" Abby Lockhart, R.N  
  
Banks of Chicago River, 18/6/02, 13:00  
  
My hands are shaking, gripping my knees hard enough to cut off circulation. My hearts beating so fast I can barely breathe. I didn't think it would be that hard. I thought I was strong enough again.  
  
I was wrong. I've succeeded in taking two steps back for every small step I've taken forward from that day. It made sense when I did it. I knew I was carrying a healthy baby, that things were going as expected, that I was on course. But going back was just one step too far.  
  
As soon as I rounded the corner and looked up at the ruined buildings around, I could see the whole scene again. The acrid smoke was thick again in my nostrils, and stung my tear ravaged eyes. There's nothing there now, of course, except rubble. That rubble was once so much of my life. I turned on my heel and ran, as fast as my legs could carry me and as far. I headed towards the river. I could think there. I could breathe there.  
  
I open my eyes, look up at the world around and take a long deep breath. It calms my spinning mind, slows my racing heart. "Are you O.K?" A young mother, her toddler firmly by the hand, has noticed my panic. Meeting her eyes, it is obvious her concern is genuine. This woman doesn't know me, she isn't judging me. She's just being friendly. "Yeah, just being stupid," A small smile crosses my lips, but she looks unconvinced. "Are you sure? You can't afford to take any chances," I saw her eyes flit down my body and I knew what she meant. I nodded knowingly. This baby survived two bomb blasts, it's going to be O.K through a panic attack. It's a survivor already. "Take care," She said gently, before walking away into the rain, trailing her child. And watching her disappear, I realize I've been here before. I've watched someone walk away from me from this self-same bench before. For a moment, I'm back there, in the clear Chicago sunlight, I can see his receding back, and I can recall how his words tore my heart out almost more than I could bear.  
  
I'd never kissed him, never told him I loved him and it wasn't his child that had taken over and deformed my battered body. And I regret every second I hadn't spent with him, all the things I left unsaid. For a second, on the same bench I saw our only chance dissipate, I wish it was his baby. His legacy.  
  
He was a great man, my best friend. He deserved a legacy. The things he'd been through to die like that, it wasn't fair. They were both great men, in their ways, but fate chose me. Fate chose me over the father of my baby and the one man who would have gotten me through this. If there is reason in this madness, I fail to see it. In their absence, I have no choice. I can't bear that I've come to this, that I'm doing this to the memory, giving away all of that life I have left.  
  
It's a girl. That much I just found out. Does that make her real? I still can't hold her, she still isn't tangible. She can't be of comfort as long as she's inside me, and I don't know how much comfort she'll be when she's in my arms. I know I won't be able to love her as I should. I don't have it in me anymore. There are people in the world who will love her as a mother should, and they deserve her more than I do.  
  
A little girl to replace the one he so tragically lost all those years ago, in a land foreign and far away. That all seems very distant to me now, as if it and he were part of another life. Any other way but the one I've chosen I have to look at his daughters face every day for the rest of my life. I would have to look at the pain and the guilt over and over again, in every smile, in every tear. I would be haunted. Horrific as the past months have been, I don't want to be any more haunted by it. Without this child, it's only the pictures in my head which will torture me - memories of who I was, who I am and the men I hurt so deeply - and then its only my life on the line and not hers too.  
  
I pull my jacket further round myself, trying to hide the bump both from myself and from the judgemental stares it attracts. It only makes it more obvious, and hiding it really isn't going to be an option much longer. Soon, this baby will force its screaming way into the world and the decision I've made will be reality. I'm painfully aware I may feel differently once I see her and it frightens me.  
  
He would have stayed with me, for the baby, but he didn't love me. He never really did. He cared for me, but that's very different. It's not a sad realization, because it frees me from the burden of having to pretend I loved him. Only the person I really wanted to spend my life with died that awful day too.  
  
The black waters of the river swirl 10 feet away, swollen and angry by incessant rain. Commuters, smart business people in suits, look sideways at this pathetic bedraggled woman alone in the rain. I was once as important, as self-important, as they are. But now I'm a hollow shell of the person I was, an empty vessel whose sole purpose is the support of this parasite. This pregnancy is literally killing me.  
  
She's taking away who I am, a vacuum sucking at my soul. I didn't ask for her to be here. I didn't want a baby! I don't know if she's my journey or the destination, and I don't care. I can't do this much longer. I just can't. 


	19. The Edge Of The Sky

Authors notes: I am working on another Dave chapter, I promise. It will probably be the next one up. I'm not sure whether this chapter will fit well with the character involved, but I liked the idea and thought it was worth a go.  
  
Chapter 19: "The Edge Of The Sky" Robert Romano M.D  
  
Dawns breaks slowly over the water and I realize I've done it again. I've sat up all night, my fevered imaginings and twisting, furious paranoia keeping my body from the sleep it screams for.  
  
I left Chicago three months ago now. I just picked up my keys and drove, left the city trailing in my wake, in ruins, struggling to cope with the scale of the tragedy that had so inexplicably befallen it. I haven't been back.  
  
I ended up here. No phones, no computers. It's somewhere, anywhere. I don't know. All that's real to me anymore is the sky, the water and my shattered heart. And it's here, in the loneliness of my own company that I'm going slowly mad.  
  
Mad with guilt, mad with grief and mad with blame. I don't wonder about those left behind, those with the strength, with the honour to fight this battle and hopefully win. Those who'd lived through a tragedy we all hoped we'd never see, a tragedy I feared was fault.  
  
I'm not a survivor, I don't deserve to be one. If I'm such a terrible person to have caused this devastation, I don't deserve to be alive. Its this guilt, this fear that weighs down my days and haunts sleepless nights.  
  
I pull myself from the chair, cross slowly to the mantle and pick up the keys. I've got to get something constructive done. I may neglect other things, but I still eat.  
  
Its refreshing to be in this town in the middle of nowhere, where people don't know me. They don't know where I've come from, who I am or why I'm here and they don't particularly care. There's a silent understanding, and they never ask.  
  
It was hard to avoid it afterwards, in the media glare that inevitably followed. They snared Elizabeth, and others, but they avoided me. I hid myself from their intrusive lenses at the very time I should have been a figurehead to my beleaguered and devastated staff. I couldn't be the leader they needed.  
  
Outwardly, I'm still the man I was. Inwardly, I hate myself and it's killing me. I'm going insane. The number of times I've drive to the edge of the cliff overhanging the lake, and sat there, with my foot on the gas and the engine running.  
  
It says something that I haven't been able to drive over yet. Something is keeping me on this earth, something far out with my control. I'd give anything to have burned alive in my office that day, to avoid all of this.  
  
That's a horrible, cold and selfish thought, for I was given the chance. I can't help but think of the irony, all this devastation and they missed the prime target anyway. I brought this on myself, and I wouldn't have minded so much if it had only been me who had ended up suffering.  
  
It was other people's grief that was suffocating. Elizabeth lost the love of her life, and nothing can ever make that right. Abby lost her best friend, and in a cruel double blow the father of the baby she was carrying.  
  
I didn't lose anyone that day. I wasn't close enough to anyone to have any claim over their death. Yet I'm to blame for them. So now I'm alone, at the edge of the sky, waiting to fall. 


	20. Demons

O.K, so this is the Dave chapter I've been working on for a long time. It just never seemed to want to fit together quite how I envisioned, but this version is the best of those I came up with and I just decided I was being far too much of a perfectionist. But enough with the babbling. I'd like to apologise for any medical errors I make, I'm not a doctor nor do I ever wish to be one (though I admire those who do greatly) and I'd like to apologise in advance in case I've written either character unrepresentative to the way they really were.   
  
Chapter 20: "Demons"  
Dave Malucci, M.D  
  
Northwestern's Burns Unit, 18/6/02, 14:20  
  
My future is inextricably linked to hers. I can see it in every encouraging smile, in her fiery, determined eyes. And it's a weight almost too great to bear, if I'm honest. Knowing that if I don't survive this it will kill her too. Living every day in the knowledge that I will destroy her. One way or another, I'll bring her down. She doesn't deserve that, or me.  
  
We talk. All we do is talk. That's the problem. I'm too open to her. She's seen more of me than even my own mother. And all the time she's here with me is time she could be using to fight her own battles. She thinks I don't know she's facing the end of her career because of that day, because of the scarring to her hands. Scarring she sustained helping me. She thinks I don't see her pain.  
  
It's a cliché but as much as I need her around, I can't bear her presence either. There's too many memories at work, it's claustrophobic.  
  
Now at least a partial recovery is in sight, scarring notwithstanding, I know I'm about to be brought crashing headlong into the reality of my situation. I'm about to go head to head with all the demons lurking in the shadows.  
"Hey, what's up?"  
Snapping out of my own thoughts, I focus on her. Her eyes are red, bloodshot, although she has made sure she's scrubbed them dry.  
"Fancy seeing you here,"  
I know it's lame. I'm keeping face. I don't want her to know. Not this time, how I'm really feeling.  
"You were a million miles away,"  
I nod, momentarily mute.  
"Want to hear some good news?"  
I can tell the sarcasm and the bitterness in her voice. It's cold and almost hurtful.  
"They can't do anymore,"  
"What?"  
"The nerve damage,"  
She finished simply. She looked like her world was ending and I knew for once she wouldn't make light of it because I was obviously far worse off. She had had hope from the start that she would be able to work again, that she hadn't had everything ripped from under her by the bomb. Some days it was all that kept her going. But with the level of damage her nerves had sustained, they'd been effectively cauterized. Burns doctors are very special people but they can't heal everyone.  
"Oh,"  
I didn't need to say I was sorry. I never had hope cruelly snatched that way. I'd known from day one that my career was over. I was lucky to be alive. Yes, I was angry the way she is now. It's hard not to be about this entire emotional nightmare. But I had to focus on getting better, on not letting these people defeat me, it was a personal vendetta. Now, I fear, these people, the incarnations of whatever evil they are, are about to rise up and defeat me. From somewhere I haven't thought of yet is rising the rawest form of grief, the stage I missed through virtue of a painful limbo, my struggle to stay on this earth. I don't want to do this to her, to give up on her. It will destroy her.  
"It's O.K. I knew it was coming,"  
"Still,"  
"It's just all I ever was was a doctor,"  
A lie, but I couldn't say that. I couldn't explain it either.  
"You can still be a doctor, just not in the ER,"  
I wasn't much good at the supportive thing, but she smiled sadly anyway.  
"No… It won't be the same,"  
It would have taken a long time to get her back into an ER after what happened. But she'd always had hope. It was hard to deal with the end of hope.  
"Anything changed with you?"  
She asked suddenly, deflecting the conversation away from herself. I sighed.  
"Nothing's changed,"  
There were words in the silence I couldn't say. Things I could use to break her heart and my own.  
"Something has,"  
Don't push me please. Don't make me try to explain.  
"Would I lie to you?"  
My attempt to lighten the situation fell flat and lay dead between us.  
"Not normally,"  
She answered, still gravely serious.  
"Don't push it, not today,"  
I was almost pleading with her not to carry on this conversation.  
"What's with the distance,"  
"Just leave it, Deb, O.K?"  
She looked shocked, as if I'd hit her, and I heard the sharp intake of breath. It was a second before I realized why.  
"Oh…God...I didn't mean…"  
There was only one other person in the world who called her Deb, and that was Carter. It was an honest mistake, but I saw how deeply it hurt her.  
"It's O.K. You used to call me that too,"  
"Only to annoy you,"  
I could see she wanted to smile, but something stopped her.  
"It worked, more often than not,"  
"It did, didn't it?"  
"Do you think about them?"  
She averted her gaze suddenly, struggling for words, as if my question had winded her. I saw the incline of her head to indicate an answer.  
"Every day, one way or another,"  
She added, looking back at me, knowing full well the weight of memories.  
"Sorry,"  
"Is that what's on your mind?"  
I shrugged, hoping if I avoided the question that it and the inevitable feelings which followed it would go away.  
"Nobody suffered you know,"  
She was reaching out, trying to be of comfort, but I was in those seconds retreating from her, more aware than ever that I had to let her go now before I killed her.   
"No, they left us to do that,"  
The bitterness frightened even me. The dead had it easy in this, far as I could see. I know great people died that day, people who's true colours I haven't seen until now, but at least for them it ended that day.  
"You'll kill yourself thinking like that,"  
"And you'll kill yourself avoiding it,"  
Her eyes were pleading with me not to get angry with her. I couldn't explain to her that she wasn't who I was angry with. It didn't make sense. There was an awkward silence, I could sense her inner turmoil, what this was doing to her.   
"You will not give up on me, you will not!"  
She blurted suddenly, unable to hold her emotions in. I heard her impassioned tone and knew it made sense. Why come this far to capitulate now? This barrier was far more than physical, this barrier consisted of me coming head to head with demons that have been lurking in the shadows for 3 months now.  
"I can't…."  
I sounded pathetic, and didn't expect her to understand. She turned her eyes away, seemingly disgusted. I hadn't wanted this to happen, not this way. I had to hurt her though, it was safer this way.   
"Don't ever say that to me, not here, not now,"  
She was blinkered, blinkered by a pig-headed belief in me, in a hope I wasn't strong enough to give her. She expected an answer and frustrated at my silence she continued.  
"I have come too far. I have too much invested in you to watch you give up,"  
"Maybe that's the problem,"  
I said quietly. She was furious, I could see it, her hands were shaking, and her expression was slightly manic. I knew I'd hurt her. I had to. I had to hurt her now, to let her move on. She never cried, never even looked like she wanted to.  
"I never asked you to care, I don't need you anymore than I did before,"  
It hurt me to say it. If I looked cold, it was designed that way. I wanted to keep her close, wanted it too much, so much I feared her. She had her own battles to fight and I had freed her to do so. She left without another word. It really was best for both of us. Whatever life we could have had, carrying on the way we were, would have been far too precarious, too intense, and too dangerous. I wanted her to come back, I wanted her not to go, but it would be best if she didn't. 


	21. The End Of Hope

Author's Notes: This chapter kinda carries on from the end of the last one. I'm sorry if this is becoming in any way nonsensical, I'm trying to make the relationships realistic. I hope I'm succeeding but am open to any suggestions.   
  
Chapter 21: "The End Of Hope"  
Jing-Mei Chen, M.D  
  
"Maybe that's the problem…"  
I couldn't stop those words running in my head. I couldn't shut off the fury I felt. I couldn't switch off my mind. I'd run from the room. I'd run all the way home till my muscles were tense and sore and my head pounded to the beat of my heart. And once I shut the door and I was safe, I sank to the floor and I cried. I don't know for how long I cried. I couldn't bear to imagine the apathy I'd seen in his eyes, the blankness, that cut deep into my being and reopened old wounds.   
  
I hoped that tears would be a release, however temporary, but they weren't. Progress so carefully made, a future built on three months of baby steps, I saw shattered. And however I looked at them, I couldn't make the pieces go back together.   
  
I wanted to numb myself to this. But the one bottle of wine I had in my flat couldn't touch the pain I was in, and so I ended up here. I was no better than the alcoholics I saw every day. Correction – that I used to see every day. I wasn't a doctor anymore. The clerk looked knowing. She had doubtless seen all this before so many times.   
  
I paid in silence and walked slowly home. He'd driven me to this. I'd been so close to the edge and his rejection today had just been the push I'd needed to fall. The world had finally closed in on me today, and I couldn't bear it.   
  
The liquor store clerk had noticed my hands. I know she had, I saw pity in her eyes. I couldn't hide them, much as I wanted to. I was scarred. Scarred and useless. I couldn't do what I'd trained my whole life to do anymore, and the only person I had to get me through this was too scarred by his own experience to let me help anymore. I needed him. More than I'd ever realized before now.  
  
My flat was bare and gloomy when I returned, struggling with the key in the lock as I did nowadays. I went straight to my kitchen cupboard to find a glass. Placing the bottle on the counter, I reached up and opened the cupboard door. Though my feeling of touch was irreparably damaged, I could still do things if I concentrated hard enough on them.   
  
Locating a glass, more by blurred vision than anything, I managed to get it to the counter safely. I gripped the bottle top, determined I could do this much by myself. If I wanted to destroy myself, then I would. Insensitive fingers slipped over the lid and I became increasingly frustrated.   
  
When it gave way, I actually sighed, relieved. I spilled more of the drink over my hands than I got in the glass, but what I managed to get in the glass was more than enough to drive away the night. I'd never been a drinker, it didn't take much.  
  
Though it tasted foul, I drank it anyway, holding tightly to the glass for fear that incapable fingers would let it slip. I wandered round my apartment, looking at reminders of happier times. Photo's in dusty frames, piles of age old magazines and newspapers long neglected, the sofa I'd always meant to get rid of but never got round to.   
  
I hadn't cleaned in ages. I'd barely been here since it happened, and when I was I was usually so tired I only slept. The liquor began to have its desired effect after a while, and I stopped moving, for fear I'd hurt myself.   
  
Hurt myself? More than I already have? Pinning all I had on him was stupid. Relying on other people always is. They can't ever do anything but disappoint you. The real reason he meant so much to me was guilt, guilt I couldn't get him out, guilt he had to go through this in the first place. The thought spun in my head.  
  
Guilt. Guilt and so much more. What was all this about? I looked up suddenly, facing the mirror over my mantle, and caught a frightening image of who I'd become. A ghost of the person I had been on Valentines Day. I was, quite simply, a wreck.   
  
I didn't see myself in that image. I refused to believe I had been dragged that low. I looked down at the clear liquid still in my glass, and I knew I had. Unwittingly, I tightened my grip, and I felt the crack as it submitted to the pressure. Shards crumbled in my hand and fell the floor, a painful parallel to the way I felt about my life.   
  
Turning my palms upward to my, I saw they were bleeding. I still bled. I was still alive. Somehow, if I couldn't feel the gash, it wasn't real. But the red liquid staining my hands and carpet told me otherwise.   
  
Those who'd died would have been ashamed of me today. Ashamed of my selfishness, ashamed of my running away, ashamed of me for not remembering them as I should. I was ashamed. Ashamed I couldn't resist his push. Ashamed I'd so willingly stepped over the edge.   
  
I walked to my bathroom, for the first time that evening switching on a light. Carefully, I washed the blood from my hands, watching as it spiraled away down the sink.   
  
I had the truth. I'd needed to hit bottom to see it. I thought I'd lost everything today. Losing my career was a blow, sure, and I had felt as if my world would end. But it hasn't yet. After all I'd been through, I was still here. I could take this. I'd needed him to make me see it. I'd needed the pain to give the future focus. I didn't need him, it was beyond that, frightening as that concept was. I loved him. He was a link to the past I no longer had. And, I knew, I was my only way out.   
  
I'd never seen things more clearly. 


	22. Leap Of Faith

Author's notes: The delay in updating is due to a mixture of Uni exams and other minor life stresses. This chapter was a complete pain to write, it just wouldn't come out, but it all finally fell into place. I'd like to take this oppurtunity to say I never meant for this story to last this long, it's like some incredible juggernaut that's grown completely out of my control. I am so grateful for the reaction it has recieved, because I never thought it would be well-recieved at all. This chapter is a continuation of the last, but I will have to move on to other characters soon (and any suggestions are very much appreciated)  
  
Chapter 22: "Leap Of Faith"  
Jing-Mei Chen, M.D  
  
I tried writing it down, tried to express in words the epiphany I'd had whilst falling into seeming oblivion, but the sentences didn't come out meaning what I had intended them to. As I crumpled the umpteenth sheet of paper and catapulted it across the room, I made a decision. If I was going to say all this, I was going to say it face to face. He deserved that at least. I wasn't a coward, not anymore, how could I be?  
  
The walk back was the longest of my life. I passed by the street on which County used to stand, just for the sake of it, and got on the EL to Northwestern. I avoided looking at the rubble, aware of just how many memories it would awaken that I didn't need clouding my judgement.   
  
It was midday on a busy June afternoon in a city that, though still reeling, had virtually returned to normal amidst the agony of the inquest into Valentines Day. The streets buzzed with workers out for painfully short lunch breaks, hurrying. I wasn't hurrying anywhere. I was doing this my way.  
  
Before I knew where I was I was standing outside the door that led into his temporary prison. I squared my shoulders, and prepared to walk into a brick wall. I couldn't see a way round it.  
  
I opened the room door, and instantly turned away. I had never seen his scars before, not the worst of them, those usually hidden from sight. I looked down on my own hands and knew how pathetic they were, especially the newly gashed and bandaged right hand.   
  
There wasn't a sound in the room, and I wasn't sure if he'd noticed me standing there. I could have turned round and left, walked away again. My breath caught in my throat and disturbed the silence irrevocably.   
"Hi,"  
I half-whispered nervously. The nurse, changing dressings on the most recent graft, turned to leave on a signal from him. I couldn't hear what he'd said. I caught her shoulder as she left.  
"Is there anything I can…? I mean, can I…?"  
I wasn't sure how to word what I wanted to ask, but she seemed to understand anyway. She nodded wordlessly and left us, alone again in the heavy silence.   
"I know my hands aren't much good anymore, but I could probably manage…"  
I gestured to the dressings, not sure I was strong enough, but for the first time willing to try.  
"Do you mind?"  
Still, he said nothing. I clenched and released my fists a couple of times to restore what movement I had left in my fingers, waiting for his assent. I wouldn't do this unless he told me it was ok. It would be as much of a leap of faith for him as it was a test for my strength. I couldn't meet his gaze, so kept my eyes just slightly off centre. In those few seconds of silence, for it couldn't be much more than that, he was never known for his patience, I wound myself so tightly I knew I'd eventually snap.  
"If you want…"  
He spoke eventually.   
  
I worked silently, too aware of my own clumsiness to try and fall over my words at the same time. My fingers wouldn't grip anything the way I commanded them. I struggled on, but I knew the job I was doing would be efficiently redone the minute I left. I couldn't even feel the material of the dressing, though I knew from memory its texture. I had effectively lost my sense of touch, and I hadn't been scared about what that meant to my life until now. Suddenly, I missed all those things I'd taken for granted before because I knew they wouldn't be the same again because a memory can never replace a sensation.   
"I'm sorry,"  
I said, sitting back down, stupidly trying not to cry, not to be pathetic. I'd come here strong, and this was just frustration. Childish frustration. The doctors had said I'd never practice medicine again, and I wouldn't. But I'd had the guts to try, which looking at my pathetic form in the mirror last night, I wouldn't have thought possible.   
"I had something to prove I guess."  
"I think you proved it,"  
Somehow, those words silenced the voice inside me, the one telling me to apologise. I felt his hand over mine, unable to hide the sharp intake of breath it caused. I hadn't drawn my hand back as I should have. Through my fingers, I could feel his breathing. I remembered when I'd prayed so hard for him to breathe, alone in that dark fire-ravaged ruin, close to my own death, knowing that if he died I'd never be able to live with myself. I remembered the promises I made that day and in the three weeks that followed, the deals I made with God to allow him to pull through. And against all odds, here he was, still real, still breathing.  
"I…I had this all planned,"  
I kept my eyes downcast, but still tripped over my words. His free hand went to my face, and slowly tilted my head up. When I met his gaze, what I had come to say didn't matter, because I sensed that somehow he already knew. And with three simple words, he proceeded to seal our fate.  
"You came back," 


	23. Loyalties

Author's notes: I have no idea where this chapter came from, it kinda wrote itself during a bout of insomnia when I probably should have been studying. Realising I've neglected other characters, because I enjoy writing the other storylines so much, I decided it was about time to rectify this. This is set three months on, and contains references to self-harm.   
  
Chapter 23: "Loyalties"  
Elizabeth Corday, F.R.C.S  
  
DuPont Drive, 21/6/02, 15:25  
  
"Jenn, she's your daughter,"  
I insisted, increasingly frustrated with my husbands distant ex. I kept cursing myself quietly for not having seen this coming.  
"I was looking after her,"  
I was infuriated by the suggestion that I had neglected Rachel because she wasn't mine. I had had so many thoughts and emotions to deal with in the weeks following Mark's death. Ella was starting to talk, something I always hoped he'd see, and him not being there broke my heart. I did curse myself for not seeing Rachel's strife before now, or for closing my eyes to the signs. Bloodstained clothes, long jumpers in June, blunted razors, footsteps on the stairs at all hours, used condoms in the trash. I hadn't wanted to imagine what she was doing to herself.  
"I can't do this anymore,"  
I pleaded with the other woman. I'd been up at 2am this morning, after another night dogged by insomnia and it was whilst walking downstairs for a glass of water that I ran into him. He hurried past me, almost ashamed, without saying a word. He couldn't be any older than Rachel herself. And all the signs that I hadn't wanted to see made sense and I knew that much as Mark would have wanted me to I wasn't strong enough to take on his daughter's demons too. I was about to speak again when the dial tone cut through the conversation.  
"Nice chat, Elizabeth?"  
Rachel demanded, the anger in her eyes a mere flicker of what I felt. She had adopted the typical defensive teenager stance. I felt, much as I hated it, another fight coming on.  
"Rachel!"  
The admonishment was delayed by shock more than anything.  
"What? Don't you want me anymore?"  
I rubbed my eyes, weary of her sarcasm, knowing it was her only protection from a world in which she feared her own reality.  
"It isn't like that,"  
"Looked like that to me,"  
"I needed to talk to Jenn,"  
"Sending me back are we? Going getting too tough?"  
I flinched at the thought that she could even say that to me of all people. Realising what she'd said, she backed down a little.  
"I know what's going on, Rachel, I've worked it out,"  
"What?"  
She feigned innocence, but I ran my eyes over her gaunt frame and noted the long sleeves covering her hands despite the fact that it was rising June. She was 15, she should have been in her prime, but instead her skin was dry and sallow, her thick brown hair lacked lustre. She wasn't who she had been and it would have killed Mark to see her this way.  
"The pieces, they didn't make sense, but they do today. You're out of control, Rachel, and I can't cope,"  
"Elizabeth…you aren't making sense,"  
How could the emotion I was showing scare her so after all she'd been through with me? Unless I was too close to something she'd thought was her own sordid secret.  
"Show me your arms…"  
I said suddenly, changing approach. She backed off as I advanced, looking every inch the caged animal.  
"Rachel…"  
She turned to run but I was quicker. It was not the correct approach, but I grabbed her wrist, pulled her arm out in front of her and yanked the loose sleeve up to her elbow. I looked up, eyes inflamed, and expected to see anger and defiance but saw shame and self-loathing. Those gashes horrified, even sickened, me. What was she doing to herself? Why mutilate such perfect skin? Why slice away at her dad's memory this way?  
"It makes the pain go away,"  
Her tone was pitiful. I tried to ignore my own disgust, but it was threatening to overwhelm me.  
"And the boys? What do they do?"  
I demanded angrily, although primevally, somewhere inside I knew the answer. I knew she was seeking closeness, seeking forgiveness possibly, but in all the wrong ways and in all the wrong places.  
"I'm careful, Elizabeth, I promise,"  
"You're 15!"  
She cast her eyes aside from me. I knew what she needed and it was the one thing I could never give her – her father back. She was seeking replacement for his love in the only way she could see how. I understood it, yet couldn't accept or condone it.  
"You won't find the answers in them, Rachel, I can promise you that,"  
"And I suppose you have the answers?"  
"If I did, would I be in the state I'm in?"  
I paused, thinking the bitterness a little out of place. I could never get used to how it tasted.  
"I think we start with a coffee, then maybe we'll both talk to your mom,"  
I was calming down, slightly. Rachel, surprisingly, nodded. I hoped wherever he was Mark would be proud of how I'd handled the situation, because I was.  
  
More Author's notes: Don't know why Rachel's still in Chicago, she just is. I think it makes a kind of sense. 


	24. A Cry In The Dark

Chapter 24: "A Cry In The Dark"  
Abby Lockhart, R.N  
  
Abby's apartment, 16/9/02, 11:50pm  
  
For the first few weeks after it happened, I used to do this. Wander around my apartment, as best I could with the leg in plaster, trying to come to terms with the turn of events. I spent my restless, tortured nights crying for them, raw angry tears that seared pain further into my soul. I could barely bear the grief in this stage, it was all I could do to take every breath.  
  
I would lie in bed at night, eyes wide open unable to sleep, with a hand on my stomach. I wondered what he'd have said, given different circumstances, about this pregnancy. This awful, unplanned accident.   
  
I couldn't feel anything for my baby, all I could feel was my own loss. All I could do was wish that things had turned out differently and cry bitter tears because they hadn't and here I was alone in the world. I wasn't good at being alone, it was self-destructive.   
  
And now she's just an abnormality, a swelling, and waiting to burst. She's about to make herself real, I can feel it, and I'm still not ready. I shuffle awkwardly, trying to sleep, acutely aware that today was my due date.   
  
I'm alone in the darkness when I'm woken from a light doze by the band of pain round my stomach. I can't move. Instead I find myself crying in the dark again, screaming this time, for my best friend. For anyone, but I knew it was him I wanted to come. I knew it would have been him who would have answered. I had been dreaming of him, as was normal, and I expected the dream to segue into reality and for him to be here to hold my hand through this ordeal.   
  
But the silence didn't answer and the pain got worse. I'd been an OB nurse for years, seen hundreds of babies delivered but it was never real. It was never real as this was real. I was losing control over my own body and it was truly terrifying. I struggled out of bed, crawled to the phone and dialed 911. I couldn't think of what else to do.   
  
The paramedics found me, breathless and already exhausted, about 10 minutes later. My super had let them in, no doubt woken by my crying. The female medic stayed with me all the way to Northwestern. I have no doubt I must have looked a horrific mess. She had kind eyes and a gentle tone, speaking to me in soft sentences, telling me we'd be there soon, offering generic reassurance. They both handled me as if I was breakable, some fragile object that mustn't be harmed.   
  
I was admitted to OB pretty much instantly. It was an efficient nurse in her mid-thirties who dealt with me, a face I vaguely recognized from some of my previous visits. A person not entirely dissimilar from who I had been in a former life. She had the same generic reassurance to offer. I knew no one could offer me anything else. Everyone was going out of their way to be nice, but I wanted someone there I knew, someone who cared about me. I needed a friendly hand to hold.   
  
His words of encouragement were ringing in my head, as clear as if he was actually saying them. I knew exactly what he'd have said and how he'd have said it. It was all that kept me going as labor twisted through my body. All I wanted was this to be over.   
  
She was a determined young lady, much like both her mother and her father, God rest him. Her cries rended the air in the delivery room mercifully quickly, and the resident looked thankful for an easy, uncomplicated birth, probably because they were having a bad shift. I was thankful too, because I was free of the parasite.   
  
Exhaustion took hold then. I watched from a safe distance as they cleaned her up and wrapped her in a huge hospital shawl. She was an angry pink colour, her tiny face screwed up against this big old world I'd forced her into. The friendly nurse turned to me, smiling that false smile we all learned so quickly in life, holding my little girl in her arms.  
"Do you want to hold her?"  
With those simple words I felt the reality of my situation crash headlong into me. This baby wasn't mine, I'd decided that long ago.   
  
I had to give her up. 


	25. Rising June

Author's Notes: Decided to go back to the neglected characters, though I know I don't write them as well as I write some of the others. I'm sorry if this chapter is a bit lame, and I'm sorry it's taken so long. I'm a very busy girl! Currently working on chapters I know most of you D/JM fans will like...should be posted sometime soon...This series isn't flowing like it used to, and was thinking of winding it down soon. Please r/r and let me know what you think.  
  
Chapter 25: "Rising June"  
  
Dr Peter Benton  
  
I had spent the last three months missing Cleo. Missing having her to come home to, her soft caramel skin in the evening light, her curls lying next to me on my pillow and tickling my face as I woke up in the morning. I had spent the last three months making daily visits to her graveside, not always by choice, just to talk to her as if this hadn't happened, and avoided thinking about her family – her devastated, hysterical mother and staunch yet broken hearted brothers. I had avoided thinking about the others who had died – my protégé, a man who had come through so much to die such a futile death.  
  
There had been such dark times in those months, that walking had been my only solace, feeling the early morning Chicago sunshine on my face as winter broke into spring, and hearing the sounds of a stunned city rising to its feet after devastation. And while walking, I have had time to think. Not just about my loss, but about life. My career, put on hold by County's destruction, my son, my sister.  
  
It was June, the clearest and most vital morning I had seen in a long time, that I decided it was time to take my life off pause. Time to bring colour and life back, to start working and the slow process of moving on.  
  
I jogged home, eager to tell Jackie. My sister had been so strong for me. I remembered how she cried when I walked through the front door, how she threw her arms around me as if she never wanted to let me go. The way I felt that evening, sick to my stomach with grief, shock and fear, I hadn't wanted her to let go.  
  
That day had been completely out of my control. I had acted completely on instinct, and in those minutes in my sister's arms, all of what I had seen and done hit me.  
  
Jackie was stood with her back to the door. I watched her momentarily, so busy and absorbed. Outwardly, she showed no sign of the trauma she had seen in her life.  
  
"Jackie,"  
  
She jumped and turned to face me.  
  
"Oh, it's you. I didn't think anyone else was in,"  
  
I opened the fridge and grabbed the OJ.  
  
"Rees is outside,"  
  
"Yeah, I saw them,"  
  
"She's good with him,"  
  
Jackie said, gazing across the back garden to where her daughter and nephew played on the grass. I followed her gaze, sensing she was attempting to avoid me with hollow conversation.  
  
"Yes, she is,"  
  
I was impressed with my niece, a girl who had lost so much but expected so little and gave so much.  
  
"Jackie…"  
  
"Peter…"  
  
She said my name with more than a hint of suspicion, arching her eyebrow in that way she has.  
  
"I'm going back to work,"  
  
"What? Why?"  
  
I smiled at her shock.  
  
"You know I can't do nothing for long,"  
  
"She's only been gone a few months,"  
  
"I miss Cleo, Jackie, but I think going back is what I need,"  
  
She shrugged, knowing from experience I was too stubborn to argue with. Her role was not one of reason, but to be there to pick up the pieces when my pride fell apart again.  
  
"OK. Whatever you want," 


End file.
